Silly
by JezzMine
Summary: George has decided to tutor Hermione in the art of having fun! He convinces her to go out for a night of spontaniety.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This is a story for my Lil' on her birthday and I hope she enjoys it!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter characters.**

**Silly**

**Chapter 1**

Silly, she knew it was silly to be doing her laundry in the Muggle fashion, but she loved the smell, not to mention the warmth radiating from the freshly dried clothes. Hugging her favorite sweatshirt to her chest inhaling the fresh clean scent she found herself rudely interrupted.

"Just what are you doing?" a male voiced sarcasm dripping.

"What are you doing here?" she countered bluntly.

"Why, Miss Granger, where are your manners?"

"I save those for important people, or more appropriately people I like."

"Well, well, I seem to have struck a nerve, what's got your knickers in a twist?" the trademark I'm up to something grin returning to his features.

"Nothing, what did I do to deserve the wonderful pleasure of your visit today?" saccharine sweetness lacing her words.

"That's more like it," he added stepping closer to her. "I have decided to personally tutor you in the art of having fun."

"Excuse me," she scoffed.

"It is I that have hearing problems, not you Hermione, I did not stutter, I believe you need help."

"I know how to have fun," she snapped.

"Please, you call this," he gestured to their surroundings, "a way to spend Saturday night?"

"This," she emphasized, "isn't all I am doing tonight."

"Right you are there, because you are coming out with me."

"I most certainly am not."

"No arguments now, it's all settled, I will give you one hour to be ready."

"Again, I am not going out with you, George," she said raising her voice to make sure he heard her.

He cupped his missing ear, "Eh?" he croaked like an old man gaining a long overdue smile from the witch in front of him. "Hermione, there are better things to do than laundry, or reading books," he added quickly seeing her about to interrupt. "Have some fun," he encouraged.

"I'll have you know I do have fun, I love my job, and I enjoy doing laundry," all traces of the smile gone.

Shaking his head slowly, oh she really needed help; exceedingly dull was too nice for her life. She deserved so much more.

"I know your exciting career path is very stimulating but all work and no play makes you rather dull."

"Thanks a lot," she huffed. She wasn't dull, sure she had a quiet life now, but after all the turmoil of the war she'd wanted it, and worked her own magic to ensure she got it, and so what if she was bored silly sometimes. Oh where did that come from?

George studied the flashes of uncertainty in her expression, time to reel her in. "Come on, we're going out with the rest of our friends. We're meeting for a pre-party at the Three Broomsticks. Harry, Ginny, and Neville will be there." Don't mention Ron that might still be a gray area he told himself.

"Really?" it had been a long time since she'd been around her friends, after the break-up, and her long hours she'd missed them. "Oh, fine." She sat her laundry basket down, "Wait, what do you mean pre-party?"

"Just what I said, who knows where the night will take us, let's be spontaneous tonight shall we?"

She bit her lip, mulling things over.

"You deserve a night out, you work way too hard. Come out and play, Hermione."

The sparkle in his eyes pulled her in. "All right, let me go change."

Bubbly with excitement she found her hand reaching for the standby pants she wore when she went out, but stopped before reaching them, what exactly does one wear for an evening of spontaneity.

Her teeth worrying her lip once again she reached into the back of her closet pulling out a top she'd purchased in a Muggle store on a whim. She'd never worn it; her friends didn't know she owned this particular item of clothing.

A playful smile caressed her lips as she stared at the sweetheart tube top with its padded bust, the sweetheart neckline, the Grosgrain ribbon at the empire waistline lying on her bed. Turning to her closet a pair of low rise jeans that hugged her body like a glove joined the shirt on the bed, next came out the crisscross sandals with the 4½ inch stiletto heels. A slight frown marring her features at the heels, but she was a witch after all, she could transfigure them later if need be. Her smile returning she hurried into the adjoining bathroom, he'd given her an hour after all.

**WMWMWMWMWMWMWM**

Was that water running? Oh well he had given her an hour, it took less time than planned to actually convince her to go. He checked his watch, maybe he should change as well. Once in his flat he flooed Harry to say things were a go.

"Change of plans."

"What do you mean?"

"Ginny got this great idea to go into Muggle London to this night club she heard about, here's the address we're all meeting there instead of the Three Broom Sticks."

"Okay," he agreed fully hoping Hermione's choice of clothing appropriate. If it was the normal boring fashion he'd make her change. "Well I got to get back to her place and then we'll see you there."

"Right, mate."

Shaking his head he turned into the nothingness reappearing in Hermione's living room having forgotten to change wearing his T-shirt and jeans. Too late now he heard her coming down the stairs.

The first view he caught from his vantage point was a foot in a sexy sparkly heel. No he must be seeing things, there is no way Miss I'm Prim and Proper owns a shoe like that he thought watching a pair of jean clad legs emerge. Long legs, in tight jeans he amended, flat waist following and before he could comprehend it his breathing stopped, the most perfect set of breasts came into his eye sight.

Did Hermione have friends he didn't know about? Bare shoulders with soft curls cascading down, a graceful neck, and then her face joined the rest of her. His eyes widened in obvious surprise, it was Hermione, but a very different Hermione. Barely there make-up highlighted her honey eyes, bringing a softness to the rest of her features, while her lips looked full and pouty.

He knew he was staring but he didn't care, it wasn't everyday this vision stood before him.

A nervousness attacking her stomach caused her to pause before going over to George, realizing the reaction she caused, the playful smile put in an appearance as she took two fingers under his chin to close his mouth.

"Ready then?" he asked finally.

"If you don't think it's too much?" she whispered.

"Not at all, you look absolutely amazing."

"Yeah, right?" shaking her head she reached for her purse.

"No, Mione," he confessed. "You are absolutely gorgeous." How did he fail to notice it before?

"Shouldn't we be going?" a blush tinting her cheeks, she ducked her head checking her wallet.

"Naturally. Oh there has been a change of plans we are going somewhere else instead of the Three Broomsticks."

"Oh, am I dressed okay then?" she not having any idea of their destination.

"I think it'll do." He felt underdressed, but shrugged it away, it wasn't about him this evening, it was all about the stunning witch in front of him. "Shall we?" he held his arm out.

"What I don't get to know where we are going?"

"Not just yet."

Biting back the scathing retort she grasped his arm willing herself to relax and enjoy the night out. Merlin, she needed it.

**WMWMWMWMWMWMWM**

With a pop they appeared in a dark alley behind a dumpster.

"Oh so charming, is this where you bring all your dates?" Hermione cheerfully asked.

"Not funny, and who said this was a date, Granger?" he grinned back pulling her out into the open.

For some reason unknown to her at the moment his words stung, but before she could analyze the situation further she found herself in front of a Muggle night club.

"You are not serious? I can't go in there."

"And why not?" George faced her waiting, when no answer was forth coming he responded, "Come on everyone is waiting already."

"Everyone?" she mumbled.

"Yeah you know the people who are your friends in name because honestly no one has seen you in ages. Now come on," he tugged her arm.

"Oh fine."

"You could at least pretend you are going to have fun," he teased.

She pasted a big fake smile on following him into the club, which turned out to be almost empty making it easy to spot her friends. Harry, Ginny, Neville, Luna, Dean, Pavarti, and Padma were waiting at a big booth for them.

Harry stood as she reached the group, embracing her, "Long time no see," he said pointedly.

"I know, I'm sorry," she cried truly meaning it sliding in next to him once he sat back down as George grabbed a chair from another table flipping it to where the back was against their table, resting his elbows on it as he sat.

"Wow, Hermione, you look hot," commented Ginny taking her hand squeezing briefly.

"Thanks."

"I didn't even notice," added Harry which earned the infamous Hermione eye roll, which he laughed at openly. "There she is."

"It is good to see you out," Luna said smiling.

"I did miss everyone, I've just been so busy with work."

"Well that's good, because I thought you'd been avoiding us," stated Ginny boldly.

"Never," grinned Hermione. She really had missed them, she just never realized how much.

"Ginny," Padma interrupted, "I thought you said this place was popular?"

"It is, we're just a bit early is all, but let's get started anyway." She pushed Harry and Hermione out grabbed Hermione's hand and went up to the bar. Ginny came back with a huge smile while Hermione entertained a frowning face at what was ordered. Ginny scooted back in by Harry handing out the tube shots.

"What should we drink to?" asked Neville.

"How about to the birthday girl," suggested George staring at Hermione who was looking at everyone else wondering whose birthday it was then realizing everyone else was watching her. Bloody hell, she'd forgotten her own birthday.

"Happy Birthday!" they all shouted downing their shots. Hermione coughed as it burned down her throat, making a face at the bad taste. Before she had time to recover another tube was thrust into her hand.

"To good friends," she croaked clearing her throat.

"Friends," echoed around the table.

"You forgot your own birthday, didn't you?" whispered George, keeping his voice low so no one else would hear.

"Of course not," she lied. She would not admit to something as dumb as that, she was the cleverest witch of her age after all.

"Liar," he breathed into her ear causing her to shiver. She turned to glare at him, but felt the tension and heard the silence from the rest of the table. Her interest peaked she glanced around to find the root of the problem.

A tall red-head was making his way to a table with a girl in tow. Hermione immediately stiffened. Harry and George both realized what was going on, an arm flung around her shoulders, and a hand on her knee offered encouragement.

"Hey, guys," Ron greeted.

"Oh, did you start without us?" the girl asked. "Happy Birthday, Hermione," she said.

"Thank you, Susan," she said a tad stiff but beamed a genuine smile at the girl, she had always liked her in school.

"Yeah, Happy Birthday," Ron added shyly ruffling his hair, fidgeting a bit.

"Thanks." This was silly she thought, why couldn't they just go back to being friends, what was the reason for all the awkwardness?

"Where's Seamus?" Susan turned her attention to Padma.

"Oh he'll be along shortly, running late as usual."

"Another round?" Pavarti proposed.

"We'll get it," volunteered Ron as he indicated Susan. They moved toward the bar leaving the others to watch for Hermione's reaction.

"How long have they been going out?" she asked casually masking her true feelings.

"A couple of weeks."

"That's nice." Weeks, no one had told her Ron was dating, of course she hadn't really talked to anyone in a while, but still Harry could have told her. As if reading her mind Harry leaned in, "Sorry, I probably should have told you, but you just started to relax and I do want you to enjoy your night."

She smiled at him, if only it were that simple. He removed his arm as he leaned back to take a hold of Ginny's hand.

"Are you seeing anyone?" Pavarti slipped in as Ron rejoined the group.

"No, I've been way too busy," she said, the excuse sounding lame to her own ears. Her eyes studied the group resting on each couple briefly. Luna and Neville had their arms linked, Dean had an arm around Pavarti, and Seamus arrived giving Padma a quick peck. She automatically felt like a third wheel, they all had someone, and she didn't have anyone. Tears stung her eyes, she quickly looked down diverting her eyes noticing the hand still on her knee.

She raised her head to meet George's concerned eyes. "I don't either," he mouthed.

A smile played across her lips, as she accepted another shot downing it straight away.

"Whoa, Hermione, we didn't even toast," laughed Ginny.

"Well, it is my birthday."

"Cheers."

The club filled up in what felt like an instant, the tables were full the dance floor crowded, and a line formed outside the door.

"Oh, I love this song," exclaimed Ginny shoving Hermione, while pulling Harry.

"No, Gin, I don't want to dance."

"All you have to do is stand there."

A laugh escaped Hermione as she stood, lost her balance, and stumbled a bit latching onto George's arm for support. It hit her all at once, feeling a bit light headed she sat down in a hurry catching George's smirk.

"Light weight."

"Shut it."

The booth emptied out, "Do you mind if I steal him for a moment?" Susan inquired.

"Not at all," answered Hermione watching George stand.

"You sure?" he asked.

"Yep, I'm going to get another drink," she raised herself slowly this time, gaining her balance with no head rush to interfere.

A sigh escaped her as she reached the bar through the throng of people. "Great bloody birthday," she muttered.

"It's your birthday?" someone asked.

"Yes, it is," she blurted.

"Well Happy Birthday! Hey, Ted," he called the bartender, "we got a birthday girl over here," his beer bottle twitched in Hermione's direction.

"That so? All right Miss, you get one free drink tonight, make it a good one."

"Oh, can't you just make me something," she said flustered. She had a definite lack of drinking knowledge.

"No, that's all wrong," the guy said. "You should have something special for a special girl."

Heat flooded her face in a blush and a giggle escaped before she could stop it. Tipsy, she had to be tipsy; otherwise Hermione Granger would never have giggled, especially not like that.

"I mean this guy could mix you up something awful."

"Oh really, and what would you suggest, Mr.?" she drawled out the mister.

"Oliver, just Oliver."

The giggle came again, "I know an Oliver, but you don't look like him." He smiled and gave her a wink, which in turn caused another giggle. Oh, Merlin, where were these giggles coming from.

"And your name is?"

"Hermione Granger." The full name, she said her full name, she could have just said Hermione, but no she said her full name.

"Well, Hermione Granger, let's get you this drink, while it's still free."

"Ok."

"Hey, Ted, mix the lady up a," he looked her up and down, "screaming orgasm."

Those damn giggles were back, "No I don't think so, hey Ted how about a long island ice tea."

"You got it." She'd always wanted to try one of those, and why not she wasn't paying. She watched Ted closely so as not to look at Oliver who she knew was staring hard at her. She flashed him a smile with a wink before heading back to her table sipping her drink and swaying her hips enticingly.

Honestly, she thought what had gotten into her.

"Hey, Ron," she carefully sat herself and her drink down.

"Hey," he was alone at the table, everyone else still dancing.

"I've missed you," she blurted. "Our friendship," she clarified noticing the look of unease.

He visibly relaxed, "Me too, I wish things were back the way they were."

"Me too," she admitted. "Maybe we should work on that."

"Yeah, all right," he grinned. She was one of his best friends it had always been the three of them.

"Great," she giggled again. Ron raised an eyebrow but chose not to say anything, as she seemed to be enjoying herself.

"Hello all," Harry said claiming George's chair.

"Harry!" Hermione squealed.

"Are you drunk?"

"Not at all, can't I just be happy to see you?"

"I was gone all of five minutes."

"So?" she dared him.

Ron shook his head chuckling giving Harry a slap on the arm. "Let her be, mate."

"Fine, I could use another drink myself, want anything?"

"Hermione, what are you drinking?" Ron was unfamiliar with Muggle alcohol.

"A long island ice tea?"

"Oh I've heard of those," Dean said joining them.

"What's in it?"

"A lot of alcohol."

"Oh goody," giggled Hermione taking another sip.

"Here, let me try it." She handed him her cup, he grimaced.

"Ugh, why can't it at least taste good?"

"I like it," she shrugged her shoulders downing most of it earning curious stares from her friends. She laughed noticing their expressions, but she didn't care, with the help of Oliver, she decided to have a good time, she became determined to.

"Right, more drinks," urged Harry.

"Hermione," called Ginny, "come dance."

"Coming," and with that her whole drink was gone except the ice cubes.

Since their dates ditched them on the floor Ginny, and Pavarti started dancing together, and they pulled Hermione into their space. The alcohol in full control she felt her body moving to the beat and hoped she looked good doing whatever it was she was doing.

Lost in her own world she did not see the appreciative looks thrown her way, nor the blatant lust in some of the men's eyes. Ginny and Pavarti exchanged their own significant glances watching Hermione move her body in ways they'd never seen before.

"Thanks George," Susan said sitting back down beside Ron.

"No problem, where's Hermione?" he asked carelessly.

"Out there." He searched for a moment before he found her with Ginny. His eyes widened in shock.

"What's got into her?"

"Alcohol, mate, who knew," responded Harry who bristled as guys ogled his girlfriend and best friend, one of them actually daring to touch Hermione.

* * *


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I do not own.**

**Chapter 2**

As they sat awe-struck at the way Hermione was moving her body, they witnessed a hand coming to snake around her waist. A green eyed monster awoke in George in a towering rage. Only settling slightly when he saw the scene play out.

Hermione felt the hands snake around her waist, the body pressed up behind her. She turned slightly to see who had grabbed her. Not recognizing him she twisted out of his reach dodging behind Ginny.

"I'm going to take a break," she said fanning herself.

"Me too," she signaled the others. They headed off the floor together fighting through the crowd to join their friends.

"Hot, isn't it?" questioned Hermione gathering her hair up off her neck.

"I'll say," George agreed leaning over to blow on her exposed skin causing another shiver to course down her spine. Focusing on the sensation as another breath caressed her she didn't notice their friends heading back to the dance floor to take advantage of a slow song.

Relishing the feeling she closed her eyes to concentrate on the sensations overtaking her. She felt a hand on her shoulder, heat radiating from the point of skin touching skin. Another breath of air almost made her moan out loud. The shivers caused goose bumps to appear on her flesh. Taking a deep breath summoning her drunken courage she was about to voice a question when a cough brought her out of her stupor bringing dazed eyes up she found Oliver standing beside her.

"Would you like to dance?"

She opened then closed her mouth, licked her lips, and finally said a weak, "Ok." He took her hand pulling her up, away from George. She glanced back to see him frowning slightly his arm still resting behind where her shoulders had been.

"Enjoying your night?" She nodded allowing herself to be pulled up against him, but wishing it were someone else. By avoiding eye contact she avoided more conversation. And when the last notes of the song died away she meant to move out of his arms, but he held tight leading her straight into the next one, making her smile with a joke or funny comment. She slowly allowed herself to be comfortable with him, it was just dancing.

The music pounded in her ears, lost in the rhythm in her drunken haze she allowed her hands to roam over his body, turning abruptly so she had her back to his chest, she felt his hands beginning to discover her curves. Ignoring her common sense she permitted this behavior to continue relaxing against him just letting go.

Clinching his fist George rose up from the table trying to obscure his view of Hermione and that guy. What is wrong with me? He thought, it's Granger. _But she's different,_ a voice persuaded. Doesn't matter she's my little brother's friend. _Ha _the voice laughed_, painting her in that light isn't going to make her fall nicely back into the safe category. She's not a little girl anymore, the voice continued, and you have noticed that she is not the bushy haired book worm perfect prefect of Hogwarts._

So, George argued inside his own head, that doesn't mean I can do anything about it, she dated my brother. _But he has moved on, they are not going to be together. There is nothing standing in your way but you. _The voice went quiet as George tried to figure out what exactly he was trying to tell himself.

"Bloody hell," he muttered out loud before ordering a drink.

How did I even end up in this situation? _Well_ the calm voice began once again, _Harry and Ginny asked you to do them a favor._ I should have said no, and went out with Lee, Katie, Alicia, or Oliver or someone else just anywhere but here.

He downed a shot, then ordered something else and made his way back to the table because as much as he disliked that guy's hands on Hermione, he couldn't take his eyes off of her.

Thoughts began to drift into Hermione's head as she moved in his arms. George looks nice tonight, _yeah right he's wearing a T-shirt and jeans, you are not that desperate._ But did you see how the material molded to his muscles. Sigh. His jeans hugging his..._Stop right there Hermione Granger,_ the little voice in her head begged. With a giggle Hermione spun around to look into a stranger's eyes. A momentary surprise because it wasn't who she wanted it to be.

**WMWMWMWMWMWMWM**

With the sweat pouring, the alcohol wearing off, and her legs beginning to hurt she begged off another dance slumping down tiredly into the booth trying to arrange her scattered thoughts.

"Who was that?" Ginny rushed eyeing the man.

"Oliver, I met him at the bar," she said appreciatively gazing at his back side.

"Not bad," Luna contributed.

"Right well, who needs another one?" George butted in.

"Oh, I do," Hermione immediately spoke up, but before she could say what she wanted the DJ made the following announcement;

"Ladies and gentlemen, we have a special treat this evening, we have a birthday girl, so the next one is ladies choice, and let's have Miss Hermione Granger join us with her partner on the floor."

A shocked expression full with wide eyes and a complete look of mortification Hermione searched her friends' faces, willing someone to rescue her. It was one thing to dance anonymously, but now people would know who she was.

"Go on," Ginny urged.

Partner who was her partner, she didn't want to dance with Oliver again. Again she cast a look at her friends as Ginny tugged her up she hastily grabbed George's arm.

"This is all your fault," she answered his puzzled countenance. Once she'd stepped onto the floor a round of applause had her blushing clear down to her toes. The DJ started the song, and suddenly she was self-conscious.

Noticing the sudden difference George pulled her to him, his hands went down to her hips guiding them in a rhythm. One hand slipped back up her body to place one of hers on his shoulder then placed the other one on his opposite shoulder. His longer hair brushing against her fingertips causing a pleasurable sensation.

Her eyes rose to slowly meet his and she was trapped. Brown clashed with brown as their bodies moved together of their own accord in a natural rhythm. Shock waves were sweeping through her body beginning at the points of contact between his body and hers.

Of their own volition her hands skimmed his shoulders brushing the back of his neck his hair leaving her fingers tingling, a need rose in her and her hands slithered down past his sleeves onto his bare skin.

His hand tightened at her hip, the other one ghosting over her bare back, her shoulders only his fingertips touching in feather light caresses, running over her cheek before grazing down her own bare arms.

This had to be one of the most erotic experiences of her life; her breathing became shallow pants as she allowed her mind to indulge in certain fantasies.

Wrenching her gaze from his she turned around before the mix of emotions he was eliciting exhibited themselves. Pressing her body into his they continued their sensual encounter.

"Hermione," he muttered into her ear, his breath stirring desires within her. His hands roaming freely leaving more goose bumps in their wake. Her arms snaked up to tangle in his hair clasping his neck briefly before dropping only to find his waist.

George used his hands to urge her to turn back around as his own thoughts took him into a new realm where Hermione was concerned. His eyes sought some form of permission from her, her tongue darted out anticipating his next move.

All of a sudden his gaze was riveted to her mouth, her lips enticing him, her tongue inviting and then the music stopped, the DJ announcing a round of Happy Birthday in her honor.

Hermione felt her cheeks heat as she lowered her head to his shoulder waiting out the last words of the song, embarrassed for more than one reason, however a smile played with her lips because George Weasley was going to kiss her, she'd seen his intentions clearly, his body language shouting at her as her's was shouting at him. Then the blasted music ended and now she was being ridiculed with a chorus of the birthday song. Bloody hell she wanted to scream past the point of frustration.

One more she thought, one more dance, maybe we could get back to what almost happened, a longing erupted bringing a desperate hunger to her senses.

The words formed on her lips but never left them, because after a shuddering breath to calm his hormones George led her back to their own party.

She sat quickly lowering her head so her hair would hide her pink tinted cheeks, even though it was dark she suspected something was written all over her face.

"Want another drink, George?" Harry asked as he was about to make a trip to the bar with Ron.

"Merlin yes," he replied too quick earning a few startled looks.

Harry and Ron were edging away from the table when Hermione raised her head, "No one asked if I wanted anything," she said pouting.

"Oh, and what do you want?" George spoke before he could stop himself knowing he meant more than a drink as his leg casually brushed against hers under the table.

Her eyes met his desires playing out. A boldness emerging from deep within made her say, "A screaming orgasm." Oh goodness, had she really said that, and from George's shocked expression to the gasps around the table she knew she had.

"I'll go with you guys," announced George taking a deep breath to relieve some of the fog swirling in his brain.

The rest of the group gaped open-mouthed at Hermione appraising her intentions.

"It's a drink, you can ask the bartender," she said off-handedly shrugging away their scrutiny. "Supposedly a strong one, and my buzz is fading," she was rambling, she knew it, they knew but all chose to ignore it.

"I would have had to have a good stupor going to not die of embarrassment having a whole club sing to me." Ginny said distractingly while keeping her own speculations to herself.

"It was rather funny," Neville chuckled.

"Glad you all found it entertaining," teased Hermione throwing off her own sensual stupor waiting for her alcohol.

"More dancing," Luna demanded snorting. Most cleared off bobbing to the dance floor, "Hermione?"

"Need more alcohol before I even attempt it."

Laughter followed her friends, echoing in her head. The silence left behind opened a haze for Hermione as naughty thoughts of a certain Weasley entered into her conscious.

_What are you doing? George Weasley? Ron's older brother George, prankster extraordinaire. You cannot, I repeat cannot be having these kinds of feelings for him of all people. Again are you that desperate?_ The voice chastised her. Oh shut up, she told it rudely.

"One screaming orgasm," Harry flourished the drink in front of her. "I felt like a complete prat ordering that by the way."

"Thank you kind sir," Hermione flashed a smile sipping the drink. "Delicious."

Ron snickered at her odd behavior putting it down to the alcohol.

"Here we also got some more tube shots to get everyone back into the spirit of celebrating, but where have they gone?" he gestured to the half empty booth.

"Oh well, the others just get to miss out," Ginny commented. She'd been observing Hermione, noticing the concentration.

"Boo on them," Hermione said taking a shot in her hand, she decided she didn't want her brain to be able to function anymore. "It's a repeat, but to friends," she raised her tube it was joined by Ginny's, Harry's, Ron's and George's. This one meant more as Ron was included.

One round down, three to go, two to go, and then just one more, "Here is to getting what you want," George toasted brushing his leg against Hermione's once more meeting her stare, she downed it, followed a second later by him. Feeling the stirrings within her body she began working on her other drink wanting to reach that state beyond conscious thought.

* * *

Thank you to everyone who reviewed! Hope you enjoyed it! 


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

A dull ache turned into a throb as she moved her head, her stomach rolled, her tongue was glued to the roof of her mouth, and it was disgusting. Dislodging her tongue took all her concentration, ugh she was going to be sick, and the most ghastly taste entered her mouth.

Turning onto her stomach she tried to fight the waves of nausea, her spinning head would not allow her to move too much. Closing her eyes, taking a deep breath, she tried to orient herself, but that darn frolicking stomach of hers made it impossible. Rolling toward the edge of the bed she felt her feet make contact with the floor, she stumbled off in the direction of her bathroom in need of a serious pee, and oh she just had to brush her teeth.

Crouching over and holding her stomach she flipped on the bathroom light, oh bloody hell, stupidest thing you've ever done, Granger, she told herself, quickly pinching her eye lids together tightly. Barely squinting she made her way to the toilet, once there her eyes remained closed as she slumped down for once not thinking just trying to rid herself of sensation after sickening sensation.

**WMWMWMWMWMWMWM**

The weight on the other side of the bed shifted, the following groan pulled him toward consciousness, he fought it wishing to remain in his dreamy slumber. Then he felt the weight remove itself completely from the bed, the light switch on, the stifled moan, and then he heard a sound that woke him up thoroughly reminding him of how full his own bladder was.

Rubbing his face he sat up swallowing a couple times trying to take in his surroundings. Not his bed, he'd never own such a comforter or sheets, he looked around the room, yeah definitely not his flat. Where the bloody hell was he? And just who was in the bathroom. Apparating away flashed into his mind, but his curiosity stopped him as he heard shuffling footsteps coming back into the bedroom.

Tiredly he flopped back onto the bed hoping his headache would disappear. Maybe he should say something, but what to say when you aren't sure of what happened. Quickly he tried finding his wand to do a breath cleansing spell, he knew it must be rank, but a startling realization struck him ceasing all movements. He didn't remember last night. Hadn't the foggiest clue what transpired after a certain moment in time.

At the same moment the same realization hit Hermione, as she rinsed her mouth, contemplating her fuzzy memory, a puzzled expression on her face she re-entered her bedroom only a certain portion of the night was clear in her mind and after that point swirling fog...

All ideas faded away as she spotted the lump in her bed. That wasn't covers, oh Merlin someone was in her bed, and she hadn't the faintest trace of who it could be.

A name flashed in her mind, Oliver, now who was he and oh Merlin please don't let him be in my bed, she thought. She stood where she stopped not daring to breathe worrying her bottom lip in a frenzy.

Unbelievable, she was not the type to casually have a one night stand, what was she supposed to do? Should she say something, it was nice, but what if it was really bad? She couldn't even remember so the chances of it being mind blowing were slim to none. Pondering all the things suddenly swarming in her mind, her stomach protested.

Then a muffled voice said, "Don't worry I'm sure we used protection."

The voice sounded vaguely familiar, and she blurted, "Oh, you don't think we actually did that, do you?" You've got to be kidding right, she told herself, how childish did that sound?

"Hermione?" a quaking tremor asked as a mop of red could be seen rising from her bed.

"George?" she asked wide-eyed, flabbergasted. Total shock absorbed both of them as they just stared at one another. Shaking his head to rid it of the confusion he closed his eyes to rid himself of the image of Hermione only to reopen them to find her still standing there, chewing a hole in her lip.

Butterflies erupted to join the rolling of her stomach. "Bloody hell," she murmured staggering over to her bed adjusting her body right on the edge, not sure if her legs would steady enough to support her weight.

"Um, George, do you um," uncertainty bogging down her words, "remember last night? You know," she urged blushing madly diverting her attention to non-existent lent on her bed.

"The last thing I remember is the tattoo place."

Her head shot up, "You got a tattoo?" surprise coloring her tone.

He shook his head in the negative, "Not me, you."

"What?" she shrieked. "You're mad, I do not have a tattoo nor would I get one," she panicked searching her exposed flesh.

"I think," he struggled wiping his face, "I tried to talk you out of it."

"Tried?" she swallowed her voice faint.

"Yeah, but my memory isn't the best at the moment," he rubbed his face trying to bring something back.

"Right," she agreed distractedly, "but, but I don't see anything," she examined her arms once again.

"Not sure it's in a place you can see," he admitted reluctantly.

"Huh?" she asked dazedly not really comprehending what he was saying. Her, a tattoo? Never, not in a million years. She raised confused eyes to meet his. "Where?" she squeaked.

Gulping, not sure which reaction to anticipate he turned slightly and reached toward his lower back right above the waistband of his jeans indicating where her tattoo might possibly be.

A helpless floundering look on her face she marched herself over to the mirror in the corner of her room, twisting around pulling her shirt up as she did so, she saw a black outline on her skin.

Opening and closing her mouth with no sound coming out, she gazed into her mirror, horrified suddenly her hand rushed up to cover her mouth before she hurried into the bathroom.

The sound of her being sick made his own head throb more as his stomach lurched an unpleasant feeling attacking him.

"Ugh." To top it all off he really needed the loo. He wondered briefly if she had another one, he got up carefully trying not to jar himself too awful much wondering what time it was, and if his other friends were awake, he knew for a fact Harry and Ginny had some hangover potion, and both he and Hermione were in dire need of it.

Thank Merlin, he thought happening upon a second bathroom, after relieving himself he approached her fireplace, to floo Harry oblivious to the assumptions that would be made.

"Harry," he called, his head displayed in the living room.

"Yeah?" answered back.

"Do you have the potion?" no further details were needed; they'd been through this enough times to understand one another.

"How much?"

"Enough for two people," he confessed realizing his mistake.

A questioning face appeared around the corner as two small vials were handed to him with fire tongs.

"Later, mate, and thanks."

"Hey, wait," Harry vainly shouted to the empty fireplace, curiosity eating away at him.

**WMWMWMWMWMWMWM**

Finding herself alone in the bedroom a sigh of relief escaped.

"Hermione," a soft knock on her door.

Hesitating briefly she replied, "Come in."

"Here," he handed her a vial with a purplish potion inside. "Trust me," he grinned downing his own.

Knowing it must contain some sort of hangover cure she tipped the vial to her lips swallowing the last drops.

"Wha..." she began but was cut off by his fingers brushing her lips making a shushing noise with his own.

Waiting the required five minutes took a lot of self restraint as Hermione kept trying to speak, he quelled her several times with a severe look, but her last attempt earned his fingers back over her lips. His clouded senses appreciated the firm yet soft skin pressing against his digits, the warm air tickling as she let out a pent up breath, staring pointedly at him.

Finally as he removed his fingers she bit back a whimper at the loss of contact, licking her lips finding a small taste of him there. Then her head cleared, her nausea gone, she felt fine like nothing had happened.

"Now, it's a good idea to drink some water and eat something to settle your stomach," he coaxed walking out her bedroom door.

Stumped, she followed his lead arriving in her own kitchen a few seconds behind him.

"Don't you think we should talk about things?" she bristled at his casualness.

"Sure," he said opening the refrigerator, "after breakfast," he claimed checking random cabinets and drawers for needed supplies. "Sit," he ordered handing her a bottle of water, while unscrewing the lid of his own.

"But..."

Once again he interrupted her, "Look the potion works best when you eat something shortly after taking it or else your little morning after hassles could return."

"Fine." She sat down in her breakfast nook watching him work, not offering help because he didn't seem to need any. He poked around finding utensils, plates, pans, ingredients, and she marveled at how easily he manipulated her kitchen.

Without warning her stomach gave an almighty rumble when he sat down her plate of sausage, eggs, and toast. A cocked eyebrow met her embarrassed blush.

"Eat up," he admonished sitting across from her, raising his own fork, shifting it downward, pausing he glanced to Hermione.

Shaking her head with a grin she reached for her own silverware and dug in. It did help, all of it helped, the only problem was now she was thinking clearly, and analyzing the details of this morning, breaking down the facts in her head, fact, she had been intoxicated: fact, she could not remember last night: fact, she'd gotten a tattoo: fact, she'd slept with George Weasley. Upon relaying this fact a pink tint threatened to spread across her cheeks, fighting it down to her last fiber she made the mistake of glancing across the table, the heat covered her neck, and face.

George had been watching Hermione in absorbing thought as she all but quit eating distracted by the knowledge being thrust upon her senses, and he waited for the questions not that he knew much more than she.

Honestly he had no clue how they had made it to her house, nor how they ended up in bed together but there was one thing he was certain about Hermione was not the type of person to have a casual sexual encounter, so he knew he would be relieving part of her anxiety.

"George," she began setting her fork down looking at him with determination etched in the set of her chin.

"Yes?"

"What exactly do you remember about last night?"

"I told you I remember up to the point where you got a tattoo, only barely though, the details of exactly what happened are a little sketchy."

"And after that?" she asked pensively.

"It's all a haze."

"So," she stuttered a little, "you're not sure if we, you know," a crimson stain graced her cheeks once more. What was wrong with her, she had no problem saying the word sex in its rightful context, but being faced with the possibility of doing it made her simper like some prepubescent teenager.

"Actually, on that score I am pretty sure..."

Jumping from her seat she shrieked, "You mean," interrupting him.

"That nothing happened," he finished.

Feeling like the biggest moron on the planet she slunk back into her seat digesting his statement, "How can you be sure?"

"For one, we're still wearing all of our clothes."

For an instance her eyes lingered on his figure he was wearing, jeans, T-shirt, and even his socks, not a scrap of cloth had been removed. Next her eyes traveled down her own body, her top hopelessly wrinkled but still in place, and her jeans were there as well.

"But, how do you know we just didn't redress afterwards?" she posed the question.

Frowning slightly at her question, "That thought hadn't occurred to me," he raised his hand to silence her before she spoke, "but how many people do you know who would get undressed, get down and dirty, and then redress in their old clothes, all sweaty and what not to fall asleep?"

"None, but honestly it isn't as if we were thinking clearly last night, and for all we really know that could have been exactly what happened." For some unknown reason to her she smirked, contradicting him, pushing for it to be true. But why did she want it to be true?

"Hermione, are you a virgin?"

Once again her mouth flopped open to close then open with no sound coming out, shocked by his abrupt, blunt question she said flustered, "I don't see what that has to do with anything," indignity rising in her voice.

"It has everything to do with it," he said as if explaining something to a child. "Hermione, if we did have sex," he was stumbling across his words now, "well, and if it was your first time, you'd be rather sore," he finished pulling a face.

His words dimly penetrated, it was logical, it made complete sense, but she didn't want to accept it. Her brow furrowed she began, "And..." what if I'm not a virgin, she finished in her head.

"I really don't think we did anything but pass out together."

"Right." For the life of her she couldn't figure out why she was disappointed, she certainly didn't want her first time to be a drunken sloppy affair she couldn't even remember with a man who she did not love, and had no form of serious relationship with. "Well, then, that's all settled," she announced getting up to put her dishes in the sink.

"Are you okay?" concern in his tone.

"What? Oh, yes, I'm fine; it just seems to be a lot of revelations to take in this morning."

Her reaction differed drastically to what he'd expected, he figured she'd be relieved to know her virginity was still intact, but she was acting strangely.

"Hermione," he began, but a swooshing noise followed by a frantic, "Hermione!"

"I'm here, what is it?" she yelled running from her kitchen.

"We need your help," cried Ginny, "at the Burrow! Hurry!"

"Wait, Ginny, what's..." before she could get the words out the girl had gone.

"What about the Burrow?" asked George worriedly coming up behind her.

"I don't know, she didn't say, we'd better go." Hermione searched herself wondering where her wand was, cursing her nonexistent memory she noticed it lying beside George's on her carpet beside the couch.

He retrieved the wands, grabbed Hermione's hand, apparating them both to the Burrow.

* * *

_Thanks to all of you who have reviewed I've enjoyed reading them. And if you haven't reviewed yet, please do so!_


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

They'd apparated to a spot outside the fence, not wanting to go into the middle of the disturbance unprepared. Never go in blindly, experience had taught them that much.

Safe times, Hermione thought, they were supposed to be living in safe times. In a flash of seconds horrible images chased through her brain. All revolving around escaped death eaters wanting their revenge on the so called blood traitors.

The panic overwhelmed her making the blood race through her veins. It was hard to take a deep breath to try and steady her frantic heart. She gazed around them looking for any indication of what may be happening, but there was nothing out of place.

The Burrow stood sentinel holding its ground, the only sounds were those of nature, the ones that were supposed to be there.

"I don't hear anything," whispered Hermione, not convinced that was a good thing. What if they were too late?

Similar ideas were rushing about in George's head. This was his family. They had to be okay, they just had to be because he was not strong enough to lose someone else. Choking down the devastating pictures George grabbed Hermione's hand in a fierce grip. Allowing some of the fear and anxiety an escape.

Hermione recognized the gesture, and she studied him. All of his color drained causing his freckles to stand out, sweat appeared on his forehead and upper lip, evidence of the nervous tension. She wanted to encourage him, say something to offer comfort or strength, but as his eyes made contact with hers all she could do was inhale sharply. The look of raw fear, the anguish made her tremble, but just as quickly as she glimpsed it, it was gone, replaced with a mask of determination.

She opened her mouth to speak, but before a single syllable was uttered, he urged her to move, and she winced as her bare foot made contact with a hard stone. Their wands poised in front of them they were approaching the front door, when sounds from the back attracted their attention. Grasping her hand more firmly as if he drew strength from the contact he began maneuvering them around the house.

The rush of adrenaline made Hermione forget her nerves, summoning her courage she dowsed the images threatening to bring her to tears. Instead she concentrated on spells, spells that were going to be used to save her family as they neared that last corner.

His family was okay, they were okay, he kept repeating the mantra. Hesitating briefly, he closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, abruptly dropping Hermione's hand, he spun out in a crouch to face the devastating images Ginny's call had conjured.

The lost contact with George surprised Hermione, and then fear gripped her as he whirled out to face the danger alone. Quickly she followed, bumping right into a frozen George.

Her eyes scanned him hurriedly to make sure he wasn't hit with something, but he seemed fine, just standing there staring. Oh no, please don't let it be that bad, please, I can't take it if it is, closing her eyes she sucked in her own deep breath before facing...

Nothing. There was absolutely nothing wrong. The Weasleys, the entire Weasley family minus Charlie stood scattered about enjoying the day and each other's company.

Hermione and George both stared dumbstruck around them with their wands pointed crouched in a defensive position. Assorted Weasley's noticed their arrival and began to surround them.

"But," she stuttered on the brink of tears to be interrupted by George, "Ginny!" he shouted releasing his pent up emotions into the roar.

Mrs. Weasley rushed forward to embrace Hermione, "Oh, dear, it has been too long, we're so happy you could join us for lunch. And Happy Birthday, I know it's late but still with the best of intentions."

"Yes, thank you," Hermione managed to stammer out utterly bewildered, trying to get her heart to slow down to a normal rhythm while her brain worked feverishly to figure out the situation.

"George, so good to see you." Molly gave him a hug as well before moving out of the way of the other guests.

Ginny had been laughing freely until that yell, covering her mouth immediately she stifled the sound. Her own eyes widening to survey the scene. They were still wearing their clothes from the night before, and they had arrived together. Now why?

Seeing the mess that was Hermione, Ginny strode purposefully forward bringing herself within George's sight range, and he immediately moved in for a telling off.

"What were you thinking using a ploy like that?" Not giving her time to answer he continued, "Thought something was seriously wrong, that was not funny, especially after everything we went through the past couple of years..." Ginny grabbed his arm pulling him away from Hermione.

"You knew we were having lunch, and honestly you know how difficult Hermione can be, I had to get her here."

"That is not an excuse, you almost gave me a heart attack." He rubbed his chest trying to banish all the nasty thoughts. "I thought something was wrong," he finished in a more mellow tone with fear lingering in his last words.

"I'm sorry, I didn't think," confessed Ginny contrite. "I mean," she hurried to explain, "once Hermione got here she would know nothing was wrong, and I had to get her here, and if I would have been like hey come over she would have offered some lame excuse and begged off, and we couldn't let that happen," she waved her arm indicating the outdoors picnic.

"Fine, whatever," grimaced George.

"Besides what were you doing...?"

"Harry," cried George cutting Ginny off. Ginny pouted for half a second before she rescued Hermione from Bill, excusing her friend she pulled her into the kitchen of the deserted Burrow.

"You look bloody awful," commented Ginny studying her friend. Streaks and smudges of make-up blotched her face, her clothes were wrinkled, and she smelled.

"Gee, thanks." She glared at the youngest Weasley child. "I thought something awful was going on. You had no right to scare," slight pause, she'd almost said us, "me like that," she said forcefully bringing her emotions under control. With everything that had occurred in the past twenty-four hours she only wanted to close herself away to cry it all out.

"Sorry, but I needed you here, and I didn't want to deal with all of your excuses," replied Ginny not backing down an inch under that particular stare, but softening her tone.

Deflated Hermione shook her head grumbling, "You could have at least given me some kind of warning. I mean honestly, I didn't have time to shower."

"Noticeable, but Hermione you are usually up and ready by this time of day."

"What time is it, anyway?"

"One o'clock in the afternoon."

"Really?"

"Yes, now explain yourself as I fix you up a bit." Ginny took out her wand first cleaning away the stains of make-up, then taking the wrinkles out, and lastly she turned Hermione around to untangle the girl's hair, pulling it up into a presentable pony tail.

"What am I supposed to be explaining?" Hermione asked cautiously raising her hands up to feel of her hair.

"Oi!" was exclaimed behind her.

Closing her eyes, Hermione cursed under her breath realizing what Ginny just saw.

"Well, for starters, is that a real tattoo and where did it come from and why haven't you told me about it?"

"Slow down, one at a time please," begged Hermione turning to face the red head. Sighing she plopped down into a chair, this released the odors from her clothes.

Wrinkling her nose in a dainty fashion Ginny flicked her wand freshening Hermione, removing all smells of alcohol and smoke.

"Thanks, now the tattoo is as surprising to me as it is to you. George said I got it last night."

Blinking rapidly, "George said?"

"Yes," she dead panned dreading the next questions to come.

"Right, about that..."

Hermione headed her off before the girl began spouting a million and one more questions, "Apparently, we passed out together last night at my place."

"That's it," she scoffed.

"Yes," snapped Hermione then throwing her friend a pleading glance, "at least that's what we think. We're not sure, as you know we both had quite a bit to drink last night and we really can't remember."

"Oh my."

Shaking her head at Ginny's obvious understanding look, Hermione continued to confide in her closest girlfriend, "And he says he remembers trying to talk me out of the tattoo, but obviously," she indicated her lower back, "it didn't work."

"Ok, but why did you apparate together?"

"Oh no," Hermione raised wide eyes.

"What?" Ginny asked worried.

"Well, if you noticed then your mum, no doubt noticed and even though she didn't know what we wore last night, oh Ginny, it's hard to say what she thought, she's going to hate me. My clothes were all wrinkled; I don't even have shoes on, then both of us showing up together like that." She dropped her head in her hands hopelessly. Ginny took this moment to walk out of the room then returning handing Hermione a pair of shoes.

"Hush, it'll be all right, mum probably doesn't..."

"Don't kid yourself, your mother is a very observant woman, she knows, or at least she suspects some kind of, of, "she spluttered a moment, "of improper behavior."

Laughter burst out, she couldn't control it. "Please as if mum could think you of all people would act like some wanton woman with one of her sons." The glare from Hermione did nothing to distract Ginny, "Besides George would be in more trouble than you anyway."

Before Hermione could reply, "Hey, come one Gin, you are monopolizing my best friend," stated Ron.

"Yeah, right, you just want to get to the food," countered Ginny.

"Naturally," agreed Ron smiling.

"Enough girl talk," said Ginny, "let's eat." As Ron disappeared from the door, Ginny leaned in, "We will continue this discussion later, and I'm sure the story will start to circulate not all the Weasley men are as obtuse as Ron."

Shaking her head in a helpless sort of way Hermione made her way back outside to see that Harry had George cornered. Well at least it wasn't her, yet, she thought, yet.

**WMWMWMWMWMWMWM**

"Care to tell me exactly why you needed two vials of potion this morning, not to mention why you are still wearing your clothes from last night and why did you apparate here with Hermione?"

"Uh, well, the thing is," he cowered slightly under that emerald stare, before he realized he'd done nothing wrong. "I was at her house when Ginny flooed."

"That explains nothing."

"I think I passed out there last night, actually pretty sure we passed out together." He chanced a glance, "I mean," he continued, "I'm not really sure because I can't really remember much of last night and neither does she." He indicated Hermione who stepped out of the house looking beautiful, wait, better not beautiful his mind automatically corrected.

Looking down he noticed his own wrinkled clothes, not to mention he wasn't even wearing shoes. He waved his wand straightening out his clothes and another spell to make him smell better. "Now, if you don't mind I am going to go try and find some shoes," he wiggled his toes inside his socks. But a hand on his chest stayed him.

"You hurt her, and I hurt you," Harry said low and fierce, a protective tone lending support to his firmness.

George gulped, he couldn't help it. He knew Harry was protective but he'd never seen this particular side to the protectiveness. Of course, it was only a return of what George had said to him after Harry and Ginny got back together. Then the wheels turned rapidly and he went to protest, "But..." Harry had already walked away.

Frowning, he started to walk toward the house avoiding his family until he worked out some of his thoughts. What Harry insinuated was something more than friendship between Hermione and he, and that was not even plausible. He wasn't even sure if they were what one would call friends. Obviously they were more than acquaintances, but not good buddies, maybe friends was appropriate, but surely nothing stronger than that.

Feeling someone's eyes on him he turned to face the crowd before he stepped up into the house. He found Hermione's eyes trailing his movements; he managed a half-smile in her direction before disappearing through the door.

Mrs. Weasley observed the exchange between the two, saw Hermione's gaze linger a moment more than necessary, and she hid her knowing grin from the other spectators.

As Hermione assumed Mrs. Weasley had taken in their appearances on arrival, she had got up close and personal with the smells of the night before on their clothing and she formed her own opinions, but she kept her mouth shut hoping that just maybe this could be good for both of them.

She dashed the thoughts of a romantic encounter, but if they were to become friends it would do a world of good. They'd have someone outside of their immediate circles, a nice change and well if it so happened that she could get another one of her son's happily married off and gain the daughter-in-law who was already family, perfect.

Unaware Ginny was also making her own observations and she rolled her eyes as she saw the grin springing onto her mother's face. Uh-oh poor George and Hermione she commiserated.

**WMWMWMWMWMWMWM**

An awkwardness filled Hermione as she sat down in her usual place between Harry and Ron. It had been a while since she'd been to the Burrow; let alone facing the whole Weasley clan except Charlie.

Swallowing she chanced a glance in George's direction, but he was wrapped up in a conversation with Percy and his father. Shaking her head, she rotated her neck catching Bill's eyes. He winked conspiratorially and she choked on her bite of chicken earning a few more curious looks in her direction, she quickly sipped some pumpkin juice fighting down a blush.

Honestly she thought, nothing happened. She began picking at her food half-heartedly.

"At least act like you are having fun," whispered Harry into her ear. She smiled at her friend meeting his emerald eyes, and seeing nothing but sincere concern.

"I really did miss you, you know."

"I'm only a floor down, you know," he emphasized her words.

A chuckle answered him, "And I'm only a floor up."

"Point taken." He nudged her in the side playfully earning a real smile from the witch and an eye roll. Deciding to actually enjoy her friends she relaxed and loosened up.

**WMWMWMWMWMWMWM**

"So, Ginny, when is your next match?" Hermione asked savoring her last bite of chocolate.

"Two weeks, so I've got some time at home before I have to leave again."

"We should do lunch."

"I'd like that," Ginny smiled.

Geez, thought Hermione have I really been that out of touch.

"Yes," Harry spoke out loud reading her thoughts. "Good to have you back, and we shall be having our own conversation," he gave her a knowing look. "But I have to go."

"An important date?" teased Hermione.

"Very much so, the love of my life," admitted Harry.

Flustered for a moment Hermione smiled, "And how is he?"

"Growing like a weed," was his chuckling response.

"Give Teddy a hug and kiss from me, and I'll see you tomorrow," called Hermione as Harry went off to bade the others goodbye.

"Dish," Ginny urged scooting closer as other guests began departing as well.

"Can't it wait, I mean I've told you everything I know."

"But maybe talking about it will make you remember more."

Hermione swished that information around in her head, but before she could open her mouth, Mrs. Weasley's voice rang out, "Ginny, come help me!" Hermione moved to stand up and lend a hand, but Mrs. Weasley brushed the offer aside, "No, Hermione dear, you're a guest, so just relax and enjoy yourself." She smiled at the older woman sliding back down into her seat, suddenly the uncomfortable feeling returned with a pang of sadness that she was unable to push away.

"Want to take a walk?" George asked from behind her.

"Sure," she agreed a bit reluctantly.

"Come on, I don't bite," he grinned alleviating some of the tension between the pair.

"Hopeless, you are hopeless."

"So I've been told more times than I can possibly count." He offered his hand in a gentlemanly bow.

"Why thank you kind sir," Hermione smiled, a small nagging feeling prickling in the back of her mind, a sort of déjà vu.

"Earth to Hermione," George waved a hand in front of her face, she was half-standing, half-sitting with her hand still in his. She promptly let go then fell hard onto her chair with an unladylike thud.

"Ow," she whined denying the urge to rub her backside as she stood. She waited for the joke, or phrase to make fun of her, but it never came and she looked at George with a quizzical yet thoughtful gaze.

"It's too easy."

She huffed as they chose a path leading into the small forest behind the Burrow. A silence engulfed the pair as they were caught up in their own thoughts.

"Are you all right?" George broke the silence as they came upon a grouping of rocks big enough to perch upon.

"Fine, why?"

Hhmm he thought could it be because I've been watching you today, and I noticed the moment your face fell, and the shadows that you try so hard to fight came into your eyes. No, I can't tell you that, I can't even explain it to myself. He opted for, "You just seemed a bit out of sorts back there," he indicated the path back to the Weasley home.

"Oh, that, that's nothing," she admitted quickly, immediately convincing George there was more to it.

"I'm going to let you in on a little secret, I'm actually a good listener despite only having one ear."

A small chuckle escaped. With all the thoughts flitting around in her crowded brain, one in particular stuck out.

* * *

_Thanks to all of those who have reviewed, I do enjoy reading them. Feel free to leave some more!_


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Kindness. He had been incredibly kind. The whole messy situation was enough material to keep him telling jokes for years to come, but he hadn't teased her once. Her brow furrowed as she shot him a considering look.

More thoughts invaded her consciousness as she watched him. He was trying hard not to stare at her, a sheepish look pasted on his face. His body language suggesting that maybe he made a mistake in offering his listening capabilities. At that moment she broke, "It's my parents."

His head jerked around, his eyes widened in the sudden shock of her choosing to confide in him. "What do you mean?" He moved closer to only have her turn away.

"Well it's been rocky for a while, I mean it wasn't exactly easy explaining to them why I wiped their memories, and made them move to another country. They know about magic but they didn't realize the possibilities nor did they imagine their only child capable of committing such an act."

"But you were protecting them," he pointed out.

"I know that and I tried explaining it to them, but they felt betrayed," she spun to face him pleading with him to understand, for him not to feel the same as her parents. "They said they needed time," her voice soft, shaded with unshed tears.

Seeing the tears sparkling in her eyes he found himself speechless. His parents had always been there for him, even when he pushed them away. He couldn't fathom being separated in that way, so he could offer no words of solace, but speaking was unnecessary because she continued after taking a breath. It seemed she needed to get this off her chest.

"And normally I can handle it, but it was my birthday," she said her tone akin to whining, but with actual hurt. "I haven't heard from them in months. I know they're busy traveling and all, but I am their only child, I just don't understand. Not a single word from them, not one single thing. It's like they forgot my birthday, and honestly I hadn't paid much attention to it myself, but then you came, and took me out with all my friends. Then today at lunch. Your family is absolutely amazing; it only reminds me of what I don't have." Tears were falling down her cheeks, and she swiped them away furiously.

Hermione cursed herself for losing her control, and her composure. She felt the mask she wore on a daily basis disappearing, the facade coming apart. And she had no way of stopping it, she'd bottled it up for so long, and now it burst free in sobs.

Without thinking George took the three strides to wrap her in a warm embrace. He held her offering the only kind of comfort he knew to give, and he felt her relax into him, allowing her tears to fall freely. For a moment, he didn't feel so alone.

**WMWMWMWMWMWMWM**

Hermione shakily pulled back from his chest staring at the huge wet spot on his shirt. Words of apology formed in her mind, but got lost on the way to her mouth as she noticed the soothing circles he drew on her back.

Lifting her face she met his concerned look, "Thank you," she smiled, placing a tentative kiss on his cheek before moving out of his arms, turning to walk away.

For some unknown reason, a strange feeling over came George, he could not allow her to leave him. He called out after her, "It's late."

A mix of confused emotions crossed her face as she came back toward him.

"You're parents," he continued not allowing her to speak, "their gift is late. That's the only reason because..." his feet were taking steps of their own volition, his words came rushing out as his body moved closer to hers, "because you are such a special person, there is no possible way they could not send you something, it's just late," he finished only a step away from her. Without knowing why he took that step, his arms wrapping around her waist, his head lowered until his lips found hers.

Hermione tried to focus on something, anything, but the words you are special, repeated over and over in her head. The only thing she was capable of comprehending were the lips tenderly meshing with hers.

A sense of déjà vu overwhelmed her as one of his hands got tangled in her hair, her own grazing up his arms to lock around his neck.

Flashes of another kiss at a different time and place had her backing away from him, and out of his reach.

Turning glazed eyes to the witch in front of him, words of apology leapt out of his mouth, "Hermione, I'm sorry..."

She held up a hand to stop him, "Don't," she warned, her sparkling eyes stayed on him a mere second before she bolted.

George watched her retreat down the path, the image of her remaining with him. A look of hurt mingling with rejection on her beautiful face, oh bloody hell he thought. He did not regret that kiss; he was only going to apologize for taking advantage of her while she was upset, or as his mum called it in an emotional state.

He stood there watching her retreating back until it was no longer visible berating himself because instead of being the supportive friend, he had gone and pounced on her like some kind of...

The proper word escaped him as he made his way back to the Burrow. Images of Hermione dancing around in his brain.

**WMWMWMWMWMWMWM**

Hermione slowed to a walk when it was apparent George would not be coming after her. Perplexing thoughts drifted in and out of her mind. Kissing George was an interesting experience to say the least.

Rounding the bend she pushed thoughts of George aside focusing on her goodbyes to the rest of the family. If she concentrated on George she'd never make it through.

"Are you sure, dear?" Mrs. Weasley questioned her minutes later.

"Yes, I've just got a headache, so I'm going home."

"Of course, have a nice lie down," the older woman wrapped her arms around her offering a comforting embrace. For the slightest second Hermione wanted to hold on to this strong woman. She wanted to have a break down to cry out all her problems. She wanted to confess all of her fears, and find the comfort of a mother who truly loves, but the hug ended and Hermione forced a small smile facing Ginny.

"You okay?" the younger girl asked sincerely.

"Fine, just a headache," admitted Hermione giving Ginny a quick squeeze.

"I am holding you to one promise of lunch."

"Wouldn't want it any other way," teased Hermione, she really did have a headache, it came on sudden, and all she wanted to do was go home to lock herself in a dark room.

"Bye then, I suggest a warm bath."

Hermione shot her a puzzling look.

"It'll make you feel better," urged Ginny.

"Right, thanks," she said distractedly as George came out of the woods. Panic hit her, she had to leave, and she had to go now.

"Ginny, could you tell everyone else I said bye, I don't want to be rude, but this headache is getting worse?"

"Yeah, ok," Ginny followed Hermione's glance, and saw George. Something was most definitely going on between her older brother and best friend, and Hermione's tinted cheeks confirmed there was more to the story.

**WMWMWMWMWMWMWM**

The water flowed into the tub, the bubbles rose filling her bathroom with an enticing aroma of lavender. Relax, she needed to relax, and maybe the awful pounding in her head would go away.

She slipped into the steamy wetness allowing the tension to drain away. Heavenly, just heavenly. She smiled to herself, leaning her head back against the edge of the porcelain tub, closing her eyes basking in the silky warmth.

_Flashes of a crowded club invaded her senses. Dancing, she was dancing with a partner whose hands moved freely over her body, heightening her awareness, and stirring desires. _

_Without facing the man, she took his hand and led him deeper into the crowd of people. Leaning her back against a wall, she embraced him as his lips came crashing down on hers in a brutal assault, that she reveled in._

A huge splash sloshed water over the edges of the tub as she sat up abruptly disturbing the smooth surface. Little waves crashed against the sides as she tried to focus.

A dream, it was only a dream. Exhaling a deep breath, she lowered herself gently back into the water, calming slightly, she reasoned with her mind to show her the intoxicating images of her dream.

Only it hadn't felt like a dream, and the club, she'd been to that club last night. She'd danced with...

Her mouth formed an O of surprise as her mind brought the man's face into sharp relief. George, it had been George, she'd been kissing George. Ah, kissing George, she thought blissfully.

Now that was an exhilarating experience, heady stuff. Her thoughts drifted away from drunken memories to sober ones, to the woods behind the Burrow, to her being in George's arms, to the feeling of his lips against hers. She had fully enjoyed that kiss. It was tender, and gentle, making her emotions go crazy.

Oh yes, she smiled seductively she truly enjoyed that kiss, and then he'd ruined the moment by trying to apologize. Was he sorry that he kissed her? Was he already regretting it?

Because she hadn't, she had wanted to continue kissing him. He could have said anything. Anything, instead of "I'm sorry" a "that was nice" or an "er" would have been preferable. Really she thought.

An apology meant he felt bad about it, oh he probably still thought of her as Ron's dorky little friend. Ugh, why did this have to be so complicated? Pushing all this out of her mind she stood, and wrapped herself in a towel.

That dratted headache was making a reappearance. Sleep, she craved the solace of sleep. Who knew, maybe in the morning everything would look different.

**WMWMWMWMWMWMWM**

George frowned as he pulled his blankets up to his waist. Thoughts of Hermione had plagued him for the rest of the day. He hadn't been able to concentrate on his work, his conversations, not even food distracted him. The girl was driving him loony.

And it was Hermione, the Hermione. She wasn't just some girl he was attracted to, no this was Hermione Granger, war hero, best friend to Harry Potter, and his little brother. The girl who helped bring down Voldemort.

Why did things have to be so complicated? And why oh why did he have to open his big, fat mouth after their kiss, when all he wanted to do...Better stop there, he thought. No point in taking those ideas any further. He'd comprise with saying snogging her again among other things.

"No," he said out loud to himself. "Do not even think it," he huffed turning onto his side, pulling the blankets up, and shutting out his own voice, he closed his eyes wanting to be rid of her alluring images.

But the scene in the club attacked him during his vulnerable stage.

_He saw that man, Oliver, coming towards their table, so he grabbed her hand rushing her to the dance floor. They were dancing again, both more intoxicated than the first time._

_There was no awkward start; they took up where they left off. Their hands skimming each other's bodies. She spun pressing her back into his chest, and there was no voice to warn him, no one telling him to stop as his hands traveled her body feeling the smoothness, the softness, the contrast of clothing and skin. He'd shivered as his hands slipped under her shirt caressing her bare stomach. _

_She was taking his hand, pulling him deeper through the people, obscuring them from their friend's views. She stopped, placing her back against a wall and his self restraint vanished. He went to her, her arms lifted to snag around his neck, his went to her waist, and their lips met in a violent earth shattering kiss, which stirred his desires like nothing he'd experienced before._

"I said no," he announced pulling himself out of the illusion. Rolling over he buried his head in his pillow and screamed. Why did she not remember as much as him? He probably should have told her, but she hadn't asked. Then their kiss today had brought those feelings back, and to say the least he was attracted to one Miss Hermione Granger, he desired her, he wanted her, and where did that leave him? Nowhere, because he was George and she was Hermione.

Rising up on his elbows he let out a long breath of air, he rearranged his pillows and closed his eyes, his dreams could take him where they pleased. Just not to Hermione, he begged.

**WMWMWMMMMWM**

A knock on the door drew the man's attention from the latest edition. "Enter," he barked. He painted a disgruntled expression on his face. It changed to surprise when he saw who entered.

"It has been a while." he commented.

"Yes, but time has been kind to me," she lied. She'd spent a whole year out of the loop, but her comeback had been grand, and earned her a nice sum of galleons. And now this was the icing on the cake, her eyes lit up with malice.

"What can I do for you?" the editor asked wearily, he knew that look, and it spelled trouble for someone.

"It is more of a matter of what I can do for you."

"And that would be?"

She opened a rather attractive dragon skin briefcase, pulling out a rather long piece of parchment with the trademark green ink. "A new story for this week's edition."

"What's it about?" he waved it away.

"Oh, I think you should read it for yourself," she insisted, pushing it into his hands.

He harrumphed before scanning the headline, a modicum of interest, he read the first paragraph, more interest, and then bam it had his complete undivided attention.

"Are you sure of this?" he asked stern faced.

"Yes, quite, I was present, and then I have a corroborating witness to fill in the blanks," she smiled pleasantly.

"All right, I'll run it in next week's edition."

"Oh no, it has to be this weeks."

"But it goes out tomorrow; there isn't enough time, to polish it."

"You know as well as I do that it doesn't need any work, and I know you are short a story, and have space to fill."

How did she do that, he wondered. "Fine, take it down to Mabel, have her put it on page..."

"I want a headline on the cover, the story center fold. I have pictures to go along with it."

"Pictures?" if that were true; this would be a big story. "Let's see them then." Circulation was down, and this would sell out all the issues.

Retrieving her briefcase she pulled out several photos, "Merlin," the newspaper man whispered. "Where ever you want it, work it out with Mabel." He shoved the pictures back toward her.

"I knew you would see it my way."

"Don't I always, Rita?"

Rita Skeeter left Bob Odak's office with a malicious glint in her eye, and a nasty grin plastered on her face. She was back, in her full glory. Her blonde curls bouncy, her fingernails a brilliant red, and her robes the newest fashion available. But none of it meant anything to her, because as she handed the story and specifications to Mabel, she laughed a sinister sound. Finally, after years of waiting she was going to have her revenge. Oh yes, Hermione Granger would rue the day she'd messed with Rita Skeeter.

"Enjoy the morning edition, Little Miss Perfect."

* * *

_Thank you to everyone who has reviewed, please continue to do so.  
_


	6. Chapter 6

_A/N: I want to apologize for taking so long in updating, but the stupid flu just wouldn't go away. But here it is and I hope you enjoy it! And just one more thing, thanks to my new beta Alicia, who is awesome for putting up with all my changes and rewrites._

**Chapter 6**

Monday morning, a wave of relief flowed through Hermione. The weekend was over and she had every intention of burying both the memories and the feelings elicited. In years to come when her friends teased her about it, she'd be able to laugh it off, but for now she felt it was best forgotten. 

George's face sprung into her vision causing a heavy, sad sigh, "It is better forgotten," she told herself as she grabbed her briefcase heading off to work. Her concentration was kicking in, forcing everything else out. 

Her attention was purposively being focused on her proposal for eliminating an old law that restricted werewolves from being gainfully employed. Her thoughts drifted to Teddy Lupin. It disturbed her that while he was showing no signs of lycanthropy his future still remained affected by such ridiculous laws. 

An injustice she was trying to fix. Her job in the Department of the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures allowed her leeway to make certain changes. Right now she was fighting the legislation that Dolores Umbridge passed under Fudge's administration. The damage done by that woman was devastating. 

Now, Hermione was on the brink of creating change, and there was no room for distractions. The new legislation she drafted was leading the magical world in a healthier direction. And after she fought this proposal through, more would follow. The next groups to be championed included centaurs, goblins, and last but not least her beloved house elves. Werewolves were only the tip of the iceberg, and she saw a long career ahead of her bettering society.

Sighing she smiled at how far her hard work had gotten her in the past few years. Her dedication and fierce determination surprised her co-workers keeping them on their toes. Her department head struggled futilely at first, trying to tramp down her aspirations, but Kingsley Shackelbolt called for a review and within twenty-four hours her old boss was replaced with someone who appeared more lenient toward regulating magical creatures.

Yes, she grinned, her job provided the necessary motivation to put the weekend in the past where it belonged, and she forbid herself to dwell on certain aspects.

But she couldn't deny that part of the weekend had its benefits. She planned on paying Harry a visit in his cubicle at Auror Headquarters. Shaking her head she laughed at how stupid she'd been to cut her friends out, and the sudden gratitude she felt surprised her. She had wonderful friends who had always, and would always be there for her, when she wasn't too dense to realize it. 

Another smile played with her lips as she reached the apparition point. She turned into the suffocating, compressed feeling and popped into the apparition arrival center at the ministry.

Lost in her own thoughts she was vaguely aware of the over bright smiles with false and a few sincere congratulations greeting her. Hiding her puzzlement she returned them a good morning, and hurried on to her office. 

Dismissing her confusion she frowned at her junior assistant who literally jumped in shock at Hermione's appearance.

"Oh goodness," Laura murmured. "I didn't expect to see you today..."

"And why wouldn't I come to work as scheduled? We have to revise and edit before we present the new proposal to the Wizengamot."

"Right," Laura recovered herself, becoming strictly professional. 

"Any messages?" Hermione meant work related messages, all personal messages were kept until the end of the day. 

"None, yet."

"Very well, I'm expecting an important letter from the werewolf council."

"Top, priority, ma'am."

"Thank you." Ugh she felt so old when Laura called her ma'am. She was only two years ahead of Laura in Hogwarts. She strode into her office shrugging it off. 

A package rested in the middle of her desk. A brightly wrapped present. Curiosity made her fingers reach out to grasp the card sitting on top. 

_Our Dearest Hermione,_

_We wish you the happiest birthday, with warm thoughts filled with all of our love. _

_Mum and Dad_

Unwrapping the present her mind automatically remembered George's words, and a warm fuzzy feeling caught her off-guard, but only for a second because once again she pushed all those emotions away. The weekend was over.

"I will not dwell on it," she mumbled, reminding herself in frustration. There was no point in wishing for things she could not have.

Looking down she distracted herself by doing some unwrapping. Under the paper was a book with a dark, age-worn cover displaying the title, "A Documented History of the Werewolf." A rare volume she had been searching for which meant her parents had been paying attention to her letters. 

She choked back the tears threatening to spill as she spied another small parcel, a red box with a darker red bow and ribbon. She lifted the lid slowly to be met with a red jeweler's box. Opening it, she gasped, inside was a beautiful silver eternity band set all around with sapphires glistening in the fake sunlight shining through her window. 

A lone tear fell from her eye, an eternity band, an infinite circle of life and love. Oh, she should have never doubted their love for her. Happiness overcame her because this was a symbol of their forgiveness. 

She sat down hastily grabbing a clean sheet of parchment to write a letter.

Before the quill absorbed the first drop of ink she was disturbed by a commotion outside her office. 

She heard Laura explaining how she did not want to be interrupted, a muffled voice answered, and there was a scuffle. She rose to calm the situation when Harry pushed past Laura bursting into her office, saying "I think we should talk." 

Her assistant was on his heels, rather disheveled apologizing profusely.

"It's okay, Hermione won't mind the intrusion," assured Harry glaring at his best friend with an unusual hardness in his emerald eyes.

"Um," Laura began nervously straightening her hair, "this just came for you," a scarlet envelope clutched in her out-stretched hand. Hermione looked helplessly between the two trying to decipher which one was ticking the loudest.

**WMWMWMWMWMWMWM**

Rolling over George held a pillow firmly over his eyes to block out the memories. He should have taken a draught of dreamless sleep. All night his mind tortured him with sweet memories of his favorite little book worm.

For all unexplainable reasons and purposes the exact moment of when she became his favorite little book worm eluded him. One day he's trying to get her to loosen up and have fun, and the next he's comforting her while she makes a big, wet mess on his T-shirt. Weirdness.

"Hey," someone banged on his door. "Get your lazy arse up, and get downstairs, we have a lot of work to do!"

Ron, the git, he thought rudely. But he should have expected it. His wandering mind had kept him from restocking last night, obviously he'd have to make up for it. 

"What's going on with you?" asked Ron when George came down a few minutes later.

"Nothing, just slept a bit late is all."

"That's it?" Ron's voice held a touch of incredulity. 

"What are you on about?" aggravation quickly coloring his words.

"Easy there," Ron laughed swiftly raising both his hands in mock surrender. "I'm just the messenger."

"Messenger?"

"Yeah, apparently the gossip from mum, and Ginny is that there is something going on between you and Hermione."

"What?" cried George. 

"Again just the messenger, but I know you and I know Hermione, I assured them nothing was going on, but they refuted sighting what they observed at the lunch yesterday and then the mysterious hours you and Hermione went missing together," Ron reminded him placing a significant emphasis on together.

"When did you learn such big words?" teased George hoping to lead the conversation elsewhere.

"You date Hermione, you pick up a few things," he shrugged, grabbing a box of skiving snackboxes to place on the shelves. "Just say it, and I'll stop."

"Fine, there is nothing going on." But if there was nothing going on why did his admission have the tainted taste of guilt. Guilt laced with a lie. 

"Okay, subject dropped." Ron moved into the front room of the shop.

George released his breath, Ron and his faux gullibility. He ran his hands through his already mussed hair in vexation knowing this was not the end of it. For one Ron still cared for Hermione, she was one of his best friends and an ex-girlfriend, shades of gray where brothers are concerned. But more importantly he knew his mother and sister. All he managed to do was buy a margin of time, a very small, very tiny, almost negligible amount.

"Merlin's pants," he cringed. Nope, not over by a long shot. 

**WMWMWMWMWMWMWM**

The shop was bustling with customers, a good sign considering this typically wasn't the busy season. But it was wrong, all wrong, the majority of the customers were acting strange, causing his bad morning to quickly turn into a bad day. 

Ron and George exchanged questioning looks trying to decipher their patron's actions. For instance the three young women who wandered aimlessly about the shop, browsing but paying no attention to the merchandise. Then when George offered his assistance they burst into tears and ran out of the store, stopping outside the window to peek in at George once more before continuing to sob hysterically.

Then other people would congratulate George and wish him well in his new adventure while at the same time giving Ron their sympathies, and paying tribute to how well he was handling the situation. 

One girl even went so far as to offer herself to Ron if he ever needed a shoulder to cry on, or if you know he just wanted to talk. Utterly confused, Ron stuttered his way through the awkward conversation, saying no thank you as politely as his red face allowed. And somehow he still ended up with a scrap piece of parchment that said owl me, with her name and address.

"You know, mate," Ron commented after yet another person commented on his brave face, "I always thought one of us would go barmy before the customers. Are you giving out any kind of free samples I don't know about?"

"No," George shook his head, ruffling his hair after an old school mate came in to offer congratulations before running off on some important errand.

"What is wrong with people today?"

"I wish I knew," George replied stepping into the backroom as another gaggle of girls stepped over the threshold. He listened to them poking about the shop, heard them talking to Ron, and then the bell tinkled over the door.

"Oi, I may have an answer," called Ron. 

"What is it?"

Ron was in the process of handing George a magazine when an owl flew in landing on the counter its leg stretched out toward George. George gulped as did Ron, two pairs of wide eyes met over the attached scarlet envelope.

**WMWMWMWMWMWMWM**

Oh no, not good Hermione thought. Harry's tone did not bode well for her and it was no doubt linked to the Howler in her assistant's hand. Smoke started leaking from the edges; Laura dropped it hastily on Hermione's desk and ran from the room, closing the door trying to provide some privacy.

Harry looked skeptically at the envelope covering his ears as experience taught him. Hermione was too shocked to move, she had never received a Howler, not once in her educational career even when the few occasions warranted one. Thank goodness her parents were not as well informed as Mrs. Weasley.

For some reason it struck her as odd that she'd be thinking of Mrs. Weasley. But Molly was of course one of two people Hermione knew who sent Howlers to their children, the other being the formidable Mrs. Longbottom.

The Howler bounded off the desk filling her office with loud screeches successfully gaining all of her attention.

"HOW DARE YOU?" an angry Molly Weasley shouted. "I TRUSTED YOU LIKE YOU WERE A DAUGHTER AND YOU GO AND BETRAY THAT TRUST IN SUCH A MANNER, HERMIONE JEAN GRANGER, I AM ASHAMED OF THIS ATROCIOUS BEHAVIOR! I EXPECT A FULL EXPLANATION THIS EVENING, BE AT THE BURROW AT 6 O'CLOCK SHARP!"

"What?" asked a stunned Hermione gazing at a nonplussed Harry.

"Honestly, what did you expect?"

"Excuse me?" asked Hermione, her anger bubbling up through the fear.

**WMWMWMWMWMWMWM**

An equally loud howler was imploding an equally angry message at Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes. George stared at his patrons wishing he could make them vanish, even as some inched their way out leaving their merchandise behind others' were placing their hands over their ears to mellow out the sound. 

"GEORGE FABIAN WEASLEY THIS STUNT IS BY FAR THE WORST THING YOU'VE EVER DONE, HOW IN THE WORLD YOU COULD DO THIS TO YOUR FAMILY BUT ESPECIALLY YOUR OWN BROTHER IS BEYOND ME! I WANT A FULL EXPLANATION, BE PREPARED TO BE AT THE BURROW AT 6 O'CLOCK SHARP, AND DO NOT THINK FOR ONE SECOND OF HIDING BECAUSE I WILL FIND YOU!" 

Fear rose in George's eyes as he tried to comprehend what his mother was yelling about. And for Merlin's sake why she felt the need to chastise him like he was still a child. She'd gone too far. Sending a howler to Hogwarts was one thing, but sending one to his place of business, and embarrassing him at work went over the line.

But his anger ebbed away when he realized how serious the situation must be, because his mother would do nothing to jeopardize his business.

"Enough gawking, either buy something or get out!" Ron shouted brusquely at the few remaining customers who snickered loudly. 

Ron, the diplomat, oh man. 

"What did I do now?" he asked quietly as a magazine smacked him in the chest. 

"Have a look at that, might explain a few missing details." The tops of Ron's ears were darkening to the Weasley red clashing horribly with his hair, a definite danger sign. 

**WMWMWMWMWMWMWM**

Hermione waited for some response from Harry, but the silence lengthened, she tried hard to rein in her temper, but her voice still held her famous waspishness, "Harry, care to explain what you meant by that?"

"What were you thinking? Honestly, did you think you could keep it a secret?"

"Keep what a secret?" she posed completely clueless. 

"You know what, and I don't even know why we're dodging around it. When were you planning on telling us? I mean I know we haven't exactly been exceptionally close these past couple of months, but I thought you trusted me enough to come to me. Yesterday would have been nice."

"Harry," Hermione pleaded hating the edge of hurt in his voice, "I don't know what you're talking about, I didn't deserve that Howler."

"Hermione, what kind of a response did you expect from Mrs. Weasley when she found out you secretly married one of her sons?"

* * *

_Yes I know, I'm like completely evil because you still don't know what was in the article nor do you know about the pictures and I have once again left you with a cliff hanger. But please review and tell me exactly how you feel.  
_


	7. Chapter 7

_(A/N: See I didn't keep you waiting too long! Enjoy! Thanks to my awesome beta Alicia!)_

**Chapter 7**

"Want to run that by me one more time?" asked a shocked Hermione.

"Seriously, Hermione," Harry stared hard at her. "You don't know, you honestly don't know." Harry paced in front of her desk tugging his hair, laughing a bit hysterically every other minute or so.

"Just how drunk were you on Saturday night?" he asked.

"Wasn't drunk, just tipsy, and what does that have to with anything?"

"Tipsy enough to apparently black out?"

"Perhaps." She shrugged.

"Well, dearest, I'd say you were sloshed beyond belief, because you are now married to George Weasley."

Giggles escaped, "Harry, don't be absurd, I most certainly am not." She choked out through the laughter that was doubling her over. "That's the funniest thing I've ever heard." She covered her mouth to stifle the cackles, trying to compose herself she gazed at Harry, waiting for him to join in. Her ribs were beginning to ache.

"I beg to differ," added Harry placing Witch Weekly across her desk.

"What's this?" she asked pointing a finger at the vile rag.

"The story of how you married, and I quote, 'the secret love of your life' by Rita Skeeter of course."

"Oh, Harry," Hermione sighed. "How could you believe anything that hag wrote about me. I mean seriously remember fourth year when we were dating? I wouldn't pay attention to any of that rubbish," she scoffed pushing the magazine to the edge of her desk.

Harry laid a hand on it, "There are pictures to prove it, so if I were you I would read the rubbish."

"Pictures, there can't be pictures of something that never happened," she stated angrily refusing to touch the magazine.

"Suit yourself," Harry said, "but Mrs. Weasley is going to want that explanation, and you'd better be prepared."

"Humph," she grunted still not budging.

"Hermione," Harry insisted, picking up the magazine, flipping the pages until he found the center spread. He laid it casually back on her desk. "Might want to take a look."

She gaped, her mouth fully open, her jaw dropping, there in the center of that dreaded magazine was picture after picture of her and George, a collage of sorts.

The pictures were taken Saturday night because she recognized their clothes. She was in her magenta top and jeans, and he was wearing his T-shirt and what was fast becoming her favorite pair of jeans. Unwanted feelings erupted inside her as she inspected each photograph.

In the first they were walking down a sidewalk holding hands happily waving at the camera, a look of pure joy etched on their faces. The next took her breath away, they were passionately embracing kissing as if there was no tomorrow. Her eyes widened, her mouth closed then opened then closed again, but all that came out was a strangled breath.

A third photo showed the couple in one of the most intimate positions, their foreheads touching, and secret smiles on their lips. Then as she watched he cupped her cheek, and brushed his lips in a gentle gesture on her forehead.

A sharp pain shot through her brain as these images registered. She had no memory of any of this.

"Read the article," suggested Harry who plopped down in one of the chairs to wait knowing she would need some support in about ten minutes, after she read it once, then again, and then again.

Laura took this moment to enter, "Miss Granger, or is it Weasley now?"

Engrossed in the article Hermione raised one hand shooing Laura out, the only notice she gave the girl.

"Laura," Harry said kindly, "cancel Hermione's appointments for the day, reschedule them as best as possible and please inform Pritchard that she will be leaving early."

"Of course, Mr. Potter, her excuse?"

"She's under the weather, of course. She's entitled to her fair share of sick days."

"Certainly."

"That'll be all," he ushered her out, tearing her eyes away from Hermione, who was biting her lip furiously, gripping the edges of the pages until her knuckles were white.

**WMWMWMWMWMWMWM**

George sat flabbergasted staring at the images of him and Hermione. His eyes locked on a picture of them waltzing with elegant moves to a song only they heard in the middle of what appeared to be an empty park, he dipped her, slowly bringing her back up to meet his lips in a chaste kiss. Turning toward the camera Hermione blushed as they bowed. He studied it closely to see hands clapping on the edge of the frame.

In a different pose Hermione was perched on his lap; he whispered something in her ear causing gales of carefree laughter. Their eyes never strayed from one another. The picture captured their expressions in every detail, and the look they were sharing was one of... Shaking his head to dispel the trance, he said, "Not possible."

"It isn't?" interrupted Ron from the door way. "Verity came in," he explained as George met his eyes.

"Ron," George began.

"Don't bother to give me some lame excuse. You lied to me earlier when you said nothing was going on. And that hurts. You're my brother and I thought we'd moved on from the petty immature boys we used to be. I thought you trusted me."

"Ron, I do. You have to believe me, I had no idea."

"You cannot sit there and tell me that you had no idea you married Hermione."

The shock barely registered on George's face before he toppled off of his chair, landing with a thud on the floor.

Ron stood still, not offering a hand up or any other helpful gesture.

"I'm sorry; I think I heard you wrong. There for a minute I thought you said I married Hermione," he was too shaken up to release an actual laugh.

"That is," he stressed, "what I said."

"Oh, well with the one ear I think I misheard you again."

"YOU MARRIED HERMIONE!" bellowed Ron.

"Not possible," repeated George. "I don't even like her," he argued.

"Ha," Ron scoffed, "looks as if you like her well enough in those photographs."

"But I don't understand. How do you marry someone and not know it?" his puzzled expression softened Ron's anger temporarily.

"What do you mean, and not know it?"

"I only remember parts of Saturday night, and this," he swept his hand over the magazine, "is not one of them."

"You'd better read the whole article, then. Who knows, it might offer some insight."

George was torn between reading the article and conversing with his younger brother whose temper was not fully appeased. In order to have a rational conversation about the situation he needed to have all the facts, and the article supplied those facts, he reasoned. Curiosity won in the end. He sat himself back down to peruse the story.

_Ladies of the wizarding world I am saddened to inform you that one of our most eligible bachelors is no longer available. Mr. George Weasley, proprietor of the infamous Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes, has been snatched by none other than Muggle born Hermione Granger. _

_The couple was married in a secret ceremony over the weekend before a small gathering of witnesses, yours truly being one of them, at the quaint LoveNest Wedding Chapel in London. _

_The pair exuded the happy couple staple as they laughingly said their I do's. A beautiful, romantic moment made imperfect only by the absence of their family and friends. When asked about the lack of audience, the couple replied it was a spur of the moment event._

_Now, this of course caused no small amount of speculation on my part, a spur of the moment event, which when thought about can only mean one or two things. One being that Miss Granger is pregnant and there needed to be a rush in the proceedings. A witness close to the couple denied this saying they were happily in love and just didn't want to wait any longer._

_Smiling I agreed that they appeared to be radiant in their love, but could their glows be coming from another source? _

_The married couple danced merrily through an abandoned park enjoying the novelty of their stunt, embracing, kissing, and acting the part superbly. But something still seemed to be off._

_The lack of wedding guests was a sure sign that this relationship was not accepted in their family circles nor by their friends. And how could it be when we take a look at the bride's dating history._

**WMWMWMWMWMWMWM**

Furiously chewing her lip Hermione's eyes scanned the paper in front of her at a speed that made Harry dizzy.

A knock and Laura came in once again, "I know you said not to disturb her any further, Mr. Potter, but Mr. Pritchard requests her presence in his office immediately."

"Couldn't you..." began Harry.

"No, I can't. He wants to see her now," she answered forcefully about to exit the office.

"You are going to have to tell him that she is not available," Harry replied firmly leaving no room for argument.

"Fine," Laura gulped avoiding those piercing eyes.

"Hermione," called Harry. No response, her eyes still glued on the article. "Hermione," he said louder, still nothing. Rising from his seat he walked over to the desk, and yanked the magazine out of her hands.

"Harry," said Hermione, "I wasn't finished," she complained.

"It'll have to wait until later, we need to leave now. Your boss wants a word."

Lines of confusion appeared on her forehead, "Nonsense, Laura would have said something," she made to grab the pages out of his hand.

"Laura, was just in here. Now, get up, and let's go before he comes looking for you. I don't think you want to face him at the moment."

"But he's my boss, I can't just not go."

"The choice is yours, but..."

"But nothing," Hermione interrupted. "I don't know what he could possibly want," she grumbled. "The proposal isn't due, don't have a final draft," she continued to mutter as her hand wrapped around the door handle. Abruptly, she dropped her hand and spun to face Harry. "Oh, what if he wants to know about this article. What am I supposed to tell him? I don't even know if it's true, I can't go." She twisted her hands nervously.

"Now you get it," Harry said. He went to her desk, grabbed her briefcase, and the two presents, then motioned her out of the office.

"I can't go, I mean what am I supposed to say, oh I was too drunk to remember exactly what happened, so your guess is as good as any I've got," she snapped. "That isn't something you can tell your boss. The man who is depending on you to rewrite magical law," she sighed, looking helplessly up at Harry.

"That's why we're not going to see him. Hurry and we can duck out without him realizing it."

"Right," she quickly agreed suppressing all the guilt she felt for acting this irresponsibly. Her steps became quicker as they approached the lifts.

**WMWMWMWMWMWMWM**

Unbelievable, George thought. He'd laugh himself silly if the article was about anyone else. In all honesty from his stand point the article was flattering, but what Skeeter said about Hermione was cruel.

_The darling Hermione Granger first made headlines during the Tri-Wizard Tournament when she was rumored to be dating the famous Harry Potter. Potter of course had his heart smashed a few weeks later at the Yule Ball as Granger chose Viktor Krum, the international Quidditch star, as her date._

_Moving on from Krum she dated yet another Quidditch player, Cormac McLaggen of Gryffindor House. The short lived romance is rumored to have existed only to make Ronald Weasley jealous. But it would take years before Weasley noticed his best friend during which time Granger managed to keep the affairs of her love life out of the gossip circles. _

_Her relationship with Ronald Weasley, best friend of Harry Potter, and brother to her current husband began a year after the historic Final Battle of Hogwarts. The whirlwind courtship of the two looked to be headed to the altar. However, in a surprising move the couple split, amicably of course, stating they were destined to be friends and nothing more. _

_But Hermione's current behavior suggests otherwise, perhaps the reason for their break-up was not as friendly as we were led to believe, but in reality due to her cheating on R. Weasley with his own brother. Enter Mr. George Weasley. _

"_He's the secret love of my life," confessed Hermione during the evening._

_And how generous of R. Weasley to protect Hermione from the criticism she would have received had this fact come to light earlier._

_So now we must ask ourselves if Hermione has found her true love or is he just another one in a long line of used and betrayed boyfriends. And let us not forget Granger's peculiar behavior on the night in question. Yes, my loyal readers there is more to titillate your senses._

_On Saturday night__, Hermione Granger was in fact publicly intoxicated. And this marriage lark is not the only shocking misbehavior of the evening. The couple was seen earlier leaving The House of Ink, the well-known tattoo parlor. Sources confirmed that Granger did in fact get a tattoo. Now the details of what and where cannot be provided as that would delve too deeply into Granger's privacy, but I shall offer this bit of information, it is not in a place displayed to the public._

_The behavior of one of our own ministry employees poses new questions for all of us. Was this marriage about love, or a drunken escapade? Was this a one night occurrence or has other evenings ended in much the same way for Granger? _

_However the most important question of all is exactly who is the real Hermione Granger? Is she the top student who graduated with honors, and now leads a respectable life working for the Ministry of Magic, or is she hiding her true colors giving us a taste of the real Hermione in this night of revelry?_

_I as a renowned journalist will do my best to seek the truthful answers to be supplied to my faithful readers. _

"That woman is vile," commented George finishing the last sentences. "The real Hermione, what is that supposed to mean anyway? A load of tosh, really."

"Oh yeah?" asked Ron.

"Don't tell me you actually believe half of that?" replied George, throwing Witch Weekly at him.

"I'm not sure what to believe," Ron answered honestly. "It's pretty convenient that both of you blacked out and are unable to provide further details."

"Convenient?"

"Yes, George, convenient, neither one of you can honestly say that none of it happened?"

"But you can't believe we'd actually do any of that?" asked George.

"Hermione, no, but you, with you anything is possible," Ron shook his head. "I can understand your need to go out and have a bit of fun, but why did you have to drag Hermione down with you?"

"And what exactly is that supposed to mean?" George forced through clenched teeth his anger rising.

"Exactly what it's supposed to," Ron's voice intoned his own aggression.

"Don't do this," warned George.

"Do what?"

"Don't act like you still care about Hermione when you haven't even spoken more than three words to her in weeks. And if you were so worried about us why did you let us wander around London by ourselves when we were so obviously pissed?" shouted George.

"As if two adults," Ron stressed the word, "need constant supervision, but for your information someone was with you the entire time to ensure your safety."

"And they did such a fabulous job," he replied sarcastically. "Who was it?" Immediate plans of hunting them down came to George, he'd find them, interrogate them, and if punishment was required, he'd hex them into next year.

"It was Luna, but don't you dare place the blame on her shoulders." Ron read his intentions clearly.

"Luna?" he asked unbelievingly. George didn't know whether to laugh or cry, Luna Lovegood, Ron had to be joking. Hermione's friends did not leave their well-being in the hands of Luna Lovegood.

* * *

_Thank you to all the wonderful people who have reviewed, to those who have put Silly on their favorites list, and to those who are reading the story! You are all fabulous!  
_


	8. Chapter 8

**(A/N: **Again apologies in the long updating, and thanks to my beta Alicia who does a wonderful job.**)**

**Chapter 8**

"You're going to wear a hole in your floor," Harry commented.

"It's just not possible." Hermione's frantic eyes gave him a pleading look. She was on the edge, the panic was lurking just beyond the denial. "No, there is no way, no way," she said firmly turning to glare at Harry daring him to contradict her.

Harry fought a yawn, normally that glare would strike fear into him, but this routine had been going on since they'd left work this morning. He wasn't sure how many ways you could phrase denial but Hermione had surprised him, going way beyond the normal limitations.

"I CANNOT," she stressed, "believe that I," a bitter laugh, "would do something so," a brief pause searching for the right word, "careless."

"Yes," Harry agreed for the umpteenth time, "completely out of character," he said exasperated, "but you know alcohol does strange things to people when they consume excess amounts."

The glare returned as she faced him. Her eyes narrowed directly at him, her hands placed dangerously on her hips, her whole stance radiated a viciousness that Harry hadn't witnessed in a long time.

"What?" he asked nonchalantly.

"You could be just a little more supportive in this crisis," she all but shrieked in an oncoming fit of hysteria. "I mean seriously," her voice cracked as tears threatened. "I go out for one night, just one night of fun, and spontaneity," she spat the word out harshly. "And look what happens," she gestured to the despicable magazine on her kitchen table.

"Yes," Harry quickly stifled the laughter, but Hermione still managed to decipher it through the fake cough.

"You're laughing?" she asked incredulously.

"Oh come on, you have to appreciate the humor of it. After all it isn't that big of a deal."

"Not that big of a deal?"

"So you got drunk, and married a friend, oh and got a tattoo. Nothing that can't be fixed," Harry assured her.

Speechless, she was speechless as her best friend summed up her celebratory night, but the gamut of emotions running through her would not allow her to see it in that light. It was not simple, it could not be repaired, and it could not be fixed.

"No, Harry, it is not like that," she sighed slumping down into a chair defeated with tears burning her eyes. "I've worked so hard, and now it could all come tumbling down. My whole reputation is destroyed because of that hag. No one is going to take me seriously, not with all that trash."

"Hermione," his voice softened into comforting warmth, "people know you, and they know you would never pull any of these stunts. You are worried over nothing."

"No," she whimpered her hands covering her face hiding the moisture leaking from her eyes. "I am trying to change magical law, the Wizengamot doesn't know me. This is horrible, how could I have been so stupid." She stood abruptly, returning to pacing wiping the evidence of tears furiously away.

"Come on, we don't even know if it's the truth. Skeeter probably made it up; the truth is not her forte."

Again Hermione shook her head helplessly, true she didn't remember but she had this unshakable feeling that it was all true, every last bit of it. And maybe the story wouldn't be so credible if it weren't for the pictures.

"The tattoo is real," she admitted warily turning her back to him, grasping the edge of the sink for support.

"That doesn't mean the rest of it is. She just wants to cause trouble for you, revenge."

"I've thought about it, and I really hope you're right, because I don't know what I'm going to do if it's true. I cannot, cannot be married to George." She closed her eyes wanting to drown out the entire mess.

"It wouldn't be that bad," insisted Harry who had noticed their odd behavior during lunch, his eyes scanning the article once again. The deadly silence penetrated his mind. His eyes slowly, hesitantly rose.

"Not that bad?" The viciousness was back. Her eyes sparkled dangerously as she searched for her wand. "I will hex you into the next century," she ground out each word threateningly.

Gulping, Harry gave a huge sigh of relief at the knock on the door.

**WMWMWMWMWMWMWM**

A huge guffaw of laughter escaped George who looked at Ron. Once started the laughter kept coming, soon he was doubled over holding his aching ribs, and still it poured from him.

"It's not funny," Ron glowered as George stumbled his way over to lay a hand on Ron's shoulder.

"Oh, Ronniekins, you don't for one second honestly believe that I would marry Hermione."

A small smile cracked his lips from the stern line. Really, George and Hermione was a ludicrous idea.

Wiping the tears from his eyes George caught sight of the full-out grin on his brother's face and a part of him got angry as Ron chuckled.

"Right, well, I'm going back to work."

"Yeah, me too," George managed in a normal tone.

"No, I think you need to get this straightened out, you still have to face mum."

George completely sobered up at the thought of the raging woman known as his mother. "I should probably go see Hermione, then we can get things settled and put all this craziness to rest."

"Yeah, I mean seriously I overreacted, you and Hermione, what a laugh," Ron clapped him on the back as he strode past.

George bristled. "It isn't that bad of an idea," he whispered. Ugh, he thought, what is wrong with me? You cannot and will not be married to Hermione, he told himself firmly. His eyes, however found the one picture that turned his words into a lie. She was sitting on his lap and they were sharing **that** look.

His hand shot out swiping the paper off the work table along with a phial of something, it shattered, splattering his robes with a dark green substance.

"Just effing great." He apparated upstairs into his room stripping off the ruined robe and reaching for the closest pair of jeans. "Not those," he commented throwing the dirty jeans across the room.

From the corner of his eye he noticed a small bit of white. Turning he saw a piece of paper drifting onto the floor.

What could have possibly been in his pocket? Unfolding it, he read the sales receipt for a ...

"Oh!"

His hands reached out to grab the nearest clothes; shoving himself into them he hurriedly slipped shoes back on and turned into the suffocating nothingness.

He appeared just outside of Hermione's door, he knocked. He waited. No answer. Again he knocked and continued to do so.

You dolt, he thought, she's at work, but his hand would not break the steady rhythm of the slap, slap against the wood.

**WMWMWMWMWMWMWM**

Hermione wrenched away from the sink glaring at Harry until she stepped out of the kitchen and he was no longer in her line of sight. The knocking was turning frantic, impatient. She yanked the door open ready to lash out at the person causing the disturbing racket, but the words died in her throat as her heart accelerated into overdrive.

George stood outside with his hand still raised to knock once more.

"Hi," she found her voice after what felt like an eternity of staring at him.

"Hi," he replied sheepishly, his arm falling limp to his side.

"So, um, I guess we should talk," she suggested.

"Er, right, are you going to invite me in?"

"Right, how silly of me," a blush tinted her cheeks and she ducked her head closing the door, dropping her chin allowing her hair to cover the tell tale sign. "Kitchen," she motioned him into the room.

"Hi, George," Harry said observing the awkward tension of the moment.

"Harry," replied George.

An awkward silence filled the kitchen as the three of them stared at one another Harry watching from his chair, George standing unsure with his hands in his back pockets, and Hermione still by the door, half-in half-out.

"I should go," suggested Harry as he made to stand up, a hand on his shoulder pushed him back down.

"No," Hermione stated more firmly than necessary. "I mean we have to figure this out and you were there for part of the night, and maybe you could help." Her explanation had both males staring at her in wonder. First, she only babbled when nervous, and second hardly anything made her nervous anymore. She bit her lip fighting the urge to run away herself.

She knew Harry would be of no help, but she did not want to be alone with George.

"Okay," said Harry sitting once more.

"I'll make some tea," offered Hermione. She needed to keep busy for a minute, just a minute. The routine of getting the kettle, running the water soothed her nerves until it was on, then she had to face the other two occupants once again.

George had sat down watching Hermione waiting for some kind of reaction. He immediately saw through her attempt at calm.

"I assume you got an invite to the Burrow for this evening," George said startling Hermione who visibly jumped.

"Yes, your mother so kindly sent a howler to the ministry this morning."

"I got one too at the shop," a grin manifesting itself onto his face. Then a laugh escaped. He couldn't help it, the situation was impossibly hilarious. And another bout of unstoppable, rib aching laughter flowed.

Rolling her eyes she turned her back on him. Her hands clenched into fists, why did everyone else think this was funny? It wasn't the least bit funny nor was it something to joke about, but what did she expect from the prankster. Her nails dug into the flesh of her palm as she heard another chuckle join in.

"I am so glad," she said bitingly, "that you find this whole thing entertaining."

"Oh," George struggled to reel in his snorts taking deep breaths of air; he tried to speak once more, "It isn't the worst thing that could have happened. So the wizarding world thinks we're married, it isn't as if it's true."

"Not true?" She'd been denying it vehemently to herself all morning but to hear it from him. A strong feeling of rejection mingled with disappointment flowed through her.

"How could it be true?" he repeated his phrase from earlier. "Like we would do something like that."

"Exactly," Hermione managed to make her limbs relax, "completely impossible. It's what I've been telling Harry, there is no way it could be true, just not possible."

"Right, so now we figure out how to make that awful Skeeter take it back and issue a public statement saying she made it all up."

"Sensible," agreed Hermione. "But shouldn't we make sure it's absolutely not possible, I mean neither one of us remembers exactly what happened and while we are both in agreement that we would never do something so ridiculous, it's better if we present Skeeter with evidence so that she'll have no choice but to recant her version of things."

"Well, I may have solved that problem as well," offered George observing Hermione closely.

"And?" she asked annoyed.

"Ron said that we were left in the care of Luna, so all we need to do is find her and she can tell us the real story."

"Wait, what? How did Luna get involved in this?" Hermione shot Harry a look that said explain, and do it now for your own safety.

"Well," Harry began, "The details may be a bit fuzzy but after we'd been at the club a while people were starting to leave and well Hermione, you sort of had a hissy fit."

"I did not," she denied. "I've never thrown a hissy in my life."

"Fine, you argued then," Harry amended, "because you weren't ready to go home. You were having too much fun, but we couldn't leave you alone, and George volunteered to stay behind with you, but well he was just as pissed as you were. Ginny wouldn't leave the two of you alone like that, so then we were discussing it and Luna said she'd make sure the two of you were all right."

George listened as Harry described the situation, most of which he remembered. And what he remembered was slightly different in that they hadn't discussed things, they'd argued, and Luna just volunteered to shut them all up. Of course, Harry was cleaning it up for Hermione's benefit.

"We have to find Luna," suggested Hermione simply.

"That might be a problem," Harry announced. Immediately he found himself under close scrutiny. "She's left for an expedition."

A heavy sigh escaped Hermione, "How long will she be gone this time?"

"Two weeks."

"Ugh," George joined in. "We can't wait two weeks, we have to see mum tonight."

"What do we do now?" Hermione asked.

"We could..."

Whatever they could do was smothered by an angry tapping on the kitchen window, an owl grabbed their attention. A letter attached to its leg. Hermione slowly opened the window allowing the owl entrance. It landed softly on the counter its claws making a soft click. The bird sat stiffly waiting.

"That's a ministry owl," Harry stated.

Hermione already recognized the owl as ministry approved, she also noticed the formal envelope attached. With bumbling fingers she removed the letter and with a sinking feeling in her stomach she leaned onto her counter top for support, George and Harry watched interestedly as she opened the crisp envelop taking out sheaves of parchment. Her eyes widened scanning the first few lines of the letter, and then they widened some more as her eyes moved swiftly down reaching the end, complete and utter shock registered on her face as she met George's eyes briefly with a helpless expression before falling to the floor in a faint.

"Hermione," George cried rushing to her side picking up the parchment to fan her with. He cradled her head in his lap, gently shaking her to bring her about. The pages fluttering in front of him distracting, wondering what kind of news could lead to such a reaction from Granger of all people.

"What?" she questioned rubbing her eyes feeling a bit disoriented.

"You fainted," he commented still surprised.

"Oh," she said weakly, spotting the papers a stronger, "Oh."

"Are you all right?" two people asked one with skepticism evident, and the other concern.

Hermione flat out scowled at the inquiry, "Did you read it?" her tone far from civil surprised all the occupants in the room.

"No, I didn't think I should pry," George snapped offended at her tone.

"You might as well, as it concerns both of us," the panic setting in caused her voice to rise shrilly. She raised herself into a sitting position leaning against a cabinet for support.

A confused look thrown her way he read the papers, his facial expressions were set in stone not moving a single muscle until he looked at her.

* * *

_Thanks to everyone who has reviewed, please keep doing it!_


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: **_Thank you Alicia for all the re-reading you did._

**Chapter 9**

"We've been approved for a marriage license," stuttered George.

"So it seems," Hermione replied. "So much for the whole it isn't true, it didn't happen scenario," she said scathingly.

"What?" asked a confused Harry. George shoved the papers into his hands rearranging his legs into a more comfortable position on the floor.

"We're married," Hermione claimed tentatively forcing herself to look at George.

"It would seem so."

"Wait, this only says you applied for a marriage license, it doesn't say anything about you actually being married," Harry stated. "There is still a chance."

"A chance of what, that it's all make-believe," Hermione snorted. "I really think we're beyond that point. It's obvious that something happened; now we have to find out what. Do you know where Luna went?"

"No, Neville probably knows, but you wouldn't be able to find her before tonight."

"Why would we need to find her before tonight?" asked Hermione.

"Because, we, my dear," George answered standing up, "still have appointments with my mother."

"Oh, I'd forgotten about that. Doesn't seem possible, this day is just surreal," supplied Hermione.

"Exactly, there has to be someone else who knows what happened," said George.

Harry waited his own mind already at the conclusion. Finally he spoke, "You could always go to the LoveNest."

"What?" Hermione shrieked indignant.

"Where?" George responded confused.

"The LoveNest Wedding Chapel, where you tied the knot," Harry explained. "They're bound to have records or something."

"Good thinking," Hermione commented internally berating herself for not thinking of it before, it should have been the first place she went after she left work. Where was all her quick thinking and calm in crisis, _it flew out the window as soon as George got involved_, the voice was back without the aid of alcohol. Oh shut up, Hermione told her inner thoughts.

"Where is it?" two voices asked at once.

"You two have been there, not me," Harry reminded them, holding his breath to stop the laughter. "Let me know how it goes, I've got to get back to work or Kingsley will have my backside."

"Likely," George laughed. "The boy who saved us all has job insecurity.

Chuckling, Harry headed for the door, "Hermione, if you need help you know where to find me."

"Thanks, Harry." Hermione gave a half-hearted wave.

Silence flowed through the kitchen once more, the awkwardness heavy in the air with the added spice of tension.

"We should get going," offered George. "We need to decide what we're going to do about mum."

"Can't we just put her off," suggested Hermione, knowing as she spoke it wouldn't be possible.

"Can you put off a mother bear when a cub is in danger?"

"Let's go to the LoveNest," Hermione said, disgust flavoring the last word.

George held a hand out to help Hermione rise from her position on the floor. Once Hermione was standing she noticed George staring at her hand. "Something wrong?" she tugged her hand free.

"I don't think I've ever noticed that ring before."

"Oh, it's from my parents, they sent a package," she hesitated, then continued, "meaning you were right yesterday." Had it only been yesterday? The past three days felt as if they were stretched out over a period of months.

"Right?" his brain was temporarily frozen.

"About my parents not forgetting my birthday," her own eyebrows furrowed at his puzzled expression and lack of boasting. She felt the need to explain further, "They did send a present; it was late, like you said."

"Oh, well we should be going."

Hermione frowned at the baffling tempo of changes in the conversation. "Let me grab my wand and purse," she said. She had too many thoughts dancing in her own head to read the added tension in George, let alone wonder what it was from.

**WMWMWMWMWMWMWM**

Using their keen detective skills the pair stood outside of the LoveNest Wedding Chapel fifteen minutes after leaving Hermione's apartment.

_At least he isn't afraid of asking for directions,_ the voice told Hermione. "Yes, just what every woman desires."

"What?"

"Nothing," she answered hurriedly. She hadn't meant to say it out loud. I am so not talking to myself anymore, she thought. Stop it. She shook her head forcing herself to concentrate on the situation at hand.

Her nose wrinkled in distaste as they entered the overly decorated lobby. Pink frilly things were strategically placed around the room along with hearts of every shape and size. Tacky plastic cupids hung from the ceiling. It was a replica of Madam Puddifoot's on Valentine's Day.

"Oh, Merlin," Hermione whispered. "We did not come here."

"I hope not," agreed George reaching for Hermione's hand. The simple instinctive gesture brought comfort to both parties and neither one gave it more than a moment's notice.

"May I help you," a witch appeared behind the counter.

"Yes," Hermione began struggling for words.

"We were here last night," George contributed.

"Oh, are you here to pick up the photographs? Last name of the groom?"

"Weasley."

"One moment." She disappeared behind a red curtain.

"Photographs?" Please not more, Hermione begged whoever was listening. She didn't know if she would be able to take anymore.

"I'm sorry, your photographs have been sent to a Ms. Luna Lovegood by special delivery as prearranged last night."

"So we were here last night?" Hermione blurted.

The receptionist stared at her with a look of bewilderment on her features.

"What she means is, we've misplaced some of our paperwork, which we need for the ministry," George explained smiling disarmingly at the young witch.

"One more moment."

"Sheesh, Granger, I thought you were steady under pressure."

"I don't see the need in dancing around the questions we need answered."

"True, but think if Skeeter is having us followed and comes in to find out what we were up to?"

Hermione stared open-mouthed at him, astounded at his careful attention to details that hadn't yet crossed her mind. "You don't see any beetles, do you?"

"Beetles?" he looked at her like she had truly lost her mind.

"See any?"

"No." Before he could inquire further the red curtain moved to show an elderly gentleman.

"Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, what an unexpected surprise. I did not think I would be seeing the young loves back so soon. Please step into my office. My assistant passed along your request."

Both were temporarily shocked hearing Hermione Granger referred to as Mrs. Weasley. Hermione followed the older gentlemen's arm into a small office. She was cringing on the inside. If you would have asked her two months ago, the name would not have sounded so unimaginable, but she'd been with Ron, and Ron was not the red head with her now.

George was thinking along the same lines. Shaking his head he fought the urge to think of her as his wife. He still could not bring himself to believe such a thing would be possible. After all, even though he was the better looking brother he wasn't the youngest.

"Of course you didn't find your paperwork because Ms. Lovegood has it. We both thought it best for her to take charge of those things," the proprietor broke into their private musings.

"Naturally," Hermione forced a smile. "But she's left on an expedition and won't be returning for quite some time and we need the paperwork as soon as possible."

"I see but I'm sorry, you two as well as Ms. Lovegood signed papers allowing only her to receive copies. She was protecting you I believe. She did not seem to trust the other woman with you."

"I can imagine," Hermione replied abusing Rita Skeeter in her mind.

"I wish I could be of more help." He stood signaling they should also. He shook their hands in turn. "Ah, I see your ring has already been delivered."

Hermione being thoroughly disappointed, and losing herself in planning what to do next did not hear the statement, but the huge cough in her ear distracted her enough to shoot George an askance glance.

"Yes," George answered hastily.

"All taken care of then," the man ushered them out.

"Come on," George said pulling her.

"How could he not give us papers concerning us, and how could Luna have done such a thing?"

"She was protecting us, I suppose. Now what?"

"We go see Neville."

**WMWMWMWMWMWMWM**

"So what do we do?"

"I don't know," George said.

They were sitting in his living room with papers spread all around them. Parts of their mystery were solved but the answers only left them more confused about what they should do.

"It's obvious, isn't it? We go to the Ministry and we get it annulled or whatever it is that wizards do and then we can pretend like it never happened," Hermione said.

"Seems simple, the only problem is the whole wizarding world knows what we've done so acting like it didn't happen isn't going to wash."

"Meaning we have to admit what we've done, telling everyone that we were drunk and didn't realize what we were doing."

"That is one alternative," George agreed.

"And if we do that," Hermione continued as if he hadn't spoken. "Skeeter will go on to destroy my reputation and all those people who oppose the changes I am trying to make will have sufficient evidence to discredit me. Nothing will get changed. They aren't going to keep me in my department when I can't get laws passed," Hermione began ranting. The thoughts had been running rampant in her mind all day, only now coming out. Her career was over. Her reputation meant everything to her job, and now she had ruined it because of one night and one mistake after another.

"And in about thirty minutes we have to go to your mother and tell her," she finished tears threatening to spill.

George studied the situation at hand realizing Hermione's predicament. Trying to change controversial laws was hard in the wizarding community. The odds were already stacked against Hermione and here comes this mess.

Guilt among other feelings spurred him to say, "There is another option."

"Huh?"

"Well, we could," he fidgeted, "still pretend."

"Pretend what? George, you just said pretending wouldn't work."

"No, I said we can't pretend it didn't happen. We can however, pretend to be married."

A small sigh escaped, "We are married, and that's what's caused all this trouble."

"I know we're married. But you said admitting we were drunk and irresponsible will only cause more problems. Think of the ammunition Skeeter would have against you, imagine the stories she'd write. It wouldn't have to be true anymore because once this comes out; your word will mean nothing. People aren't as forgiving as they'd like to think they are."

"What are you trying to say?"

"I'm saying we prove them all wrong. We prove to Rita that we are indeed in love and it was just a spur of the moment event because we couldn't wait any longer. We let the world know that we are happy and it was the best decision we ever made. Then no one can dispute your word, you still have your dignity, your job, and everything works out for the best."

"I'm not sure this is what..."

"Listen, Hermione, ever since your fifth year you have been fighting against injustice in the magical community. The odds have always been against you, why make things worse. The work you are doing is going to shape the magical world into a better place, are you willing to jeopardize that?"

"No, I'm not, but..."

"But nothing. We can do this, we can pull this off and we can protect ourselves while we do it."

"You are nuts, completely crazy."

"No, I'm offering a solution to this mess we're in."

"I don't know."

"Well we better decide something because we have to go to the Burrow now."

He stared intently at her trying to figure out what was going on behind those eyes. Hermione gave him a longing glance, she wanted to believe in the solution he offered, but it only posed more problems.

"No, George, we're better off telling the truth," she stated firmly gathering all the papers scattered around them along with the manila envelope they'd also gotten from Neville. The one containing their wedding pictures that neither one felt prepared to look at.

"I'm just trying to help."

"I know George, but it is so easy to get trapped in a lie, always covering with another and another one. I lived like that for so long, and I'm not eager to go back to a life style ruled by secrets."

He knew very well she was referring to the secret Harry, Ron, and she shared about Voldemort and their mission from Dumbledore.

"It wouldn't be the same Hermione, no one is chasing you, or trying to kill you."

A small smile issued from her lips. The three of them were still bound together by their secrets. They refused to discuss their mission, a few random facts were strung together that painted a broad picture, but the horrifying truth was kept between them. They did not want to give other dark wizards any ideas.

"I know that. But it would still be lying, and there are ways to uncover the truth. If we were found out it would only lead to more problems."

"We wouldn't be found out, I mean we are married." Let it go, he told himself. There was not a single reason he should be pushing this, only hours before he was denying any chance of marriage and now he seemed to be fighting to stay in it.

She shook her head, and decided to try another track. "Do you realize the complications this would cause?"

"What complications?" he asked thinking she was surrendering.

"For starters, we'd have to live together," her nose wrinkled. "We would have to be seen in public all affectionate and in love," she drug the word out. "It would completely take us both off the market and damage whatever relationships we are having now." She bit her lip after saying the last one, she was not in a relationship, hadn't been for a while, and she refused to believe that was she fishing to find out if he were involved with someone.

"What relationship are you referring to? Am I stepping on someone else's toes?" he smirked.

"You know very well that I am not involved with anyone. I was referring to you."

"Oh well," he said standing. "You don't have to worry about the ladies in my life."

"Ok," she responded out loud on the inside she was burning with curiosity. Was he deliberately being vague, or was there actually someone in his life. "How accommodating," she commented.

"I suppose," he said studying her. "We should probably go; mum will already be breathing fire, no reason to add another offense by being late."

"Right," she huffed; annoyed at the fact that she was still in the dark about his love life.

"So I think if we can convince mum, that's more than half the battle."

"Convince her of what?"

"That we're happily married. Oh she may be mad at first but I'm sure that will fade away to be replaced with adoration, because it is you after all." He opened his mouth to continue when Hermione interrupted him.

"George, I never agreed to this ridiculous scheme of yours. We're better off telling the truth, come what may," she said her tone brooking no argument.

"Are you sure, it's your job and reputation to uphold."

"Aren't you at all concerned about the impact of your reputation?"

He just looked at her, like she already knew the answer and he wasn't going to dignify her with a response.

"Oh right, master prankster and all," she mumbled glancing at the clock one more time. "Let's go face the music," her voice full of dread. Mrs. Weasley was definitely a force to be reckoned with and Hermione had no motivation to face the waiting reprimand. She scoffed at the word, reprimand was too mild a word but she hated to put voice to the more serious implications.

"Have it your way," George said shaking his head feeling disappointed in Hermione's denial to go along with his plan.

**WMWMWMWMWMWMWM**

The Burrow looked just as it had yesterday. Hermione stood just outside the gate biting her lip in utter terror.

"Come on," George offered, "I've been through this before, the best thing is to get it over with as quickly as possible and say nothing. Do not try to defend yourself, let her rant, and she'll eventually run out of steam."

Hermione tried to form a response but she was paralyzed wide eyes staring straight ahead.

George grabbed her hand and gave a tug pulling her from her stupor. Sighing heavily he led the way through the gate, stopping half way up the walk, he turned excitedly to Hermione, "I've got it!"

"Got what?" Hermione asked desperately grasping at any possible delays.

"It," George stated as if that explained everything.

"George," she said sternly.

"The solution to our problem. It was all a joke. A prank."

"What are you talking about? What was a prank?"

"The whole thing, the tattoo, the wedding, our story being leaked to the press, all of it."

"Huh? What are you rambling on about?"

"Come on, Granger, stay with me here," he said in a tone associated with speaking to small children. "It was all a prank. People will believe that because I'm the infamous George Weasley who owns the most famous joke shop in the wizarding world."

"So we tell everyone it was a prank?" Hermione asked her brain whirling to figure out all the implications and complications with this solution.

"Yes!" he practically yelled with enthusiasm.

"Is that what it was?"

"Huh?" it was his turn to be baffled. He deflated in mere seconds at the sound of her voice and the defensive tightening of her body.

"Is that all this was to you? Some kind of joke, some kind of trick? George Weasley, tell me you did not pull this as a prank," she demanded. The volume level and the waspishness level both rising to the danger points.

"No, Hermione, I didn't, I wouldn't."

"Oh wouldn't you?" she attacked. "I suppose you wouldn't pull something like this just like you wouldn't hide your new inventions in sweets, or pounce on unsuspecting first years either."

George paled, backing away with his arms raised.

Hermione was reeling. All kinds of emotions were threatening to break out as the realization fully struck her. Anger had come first, then disappointment, then a completely overwhelming humiliation because she'd been fooled. "Oh, George, how could you?" her voice broke with defeat and disappointment.

"No, Hermione, I didn't..." he was talking to thin air because Hermione had disappeared. He stared into the empty space in front of him seeing the accusations, and pain etched onto her features. He bowed his head in shame.

* * *

_ I apologize for long delay in updating. Please review and thank you for reading._


	10. Chapter 10

_A/N: A special thanks to my beta Alicia. _

**Chapter 10**

George frantically paced, from one side of the road to the other, and back again. But nothing was happening. No brilliant ideas, no dazzling solutions, nothing.

"Idiot," he murmured to himself. He had to fix this, he had to, but he hadn't the faintest clue as to how.

Why oh why does life have to be so complicated? Just as this thought occurred he heard the worst sound imaginable at that particular moment in time.

"George! George Weasley!" Molly huffed coming out of the gate. She'd heard raised voices, and here she was to investigate. Only the slightest impossibility presented itself. There was nothing here, not a sight nor sound of anyone in the near vicinity.

She began taking deep breaths in an effort to calm herself. She knew without a doubt that someone had been out here. And luckily the proof was found in the form of a manila envelope lying on the ground at her feet. She picked it up to see the incriminating evidence.

Her breathing quickened as she became more aggravated, which quickly turned into anger then a smoldering rage as she almost hyperventilated. Put her off, would they?

**WMWMWMWMWMWMWM**

Hermione ran into her bedroom slamming the door. She threw herself onto her bed in a heap of tears. Oh how could she have been so stupid? Of course it had all been this huge joke, why did she let herself be drawn into it? What a right prat she must have looked.

No doubt he'd been cracking up behind her back this entire time. How much fun had he been having at her expense? After all she had obligingly provided him with a spectacle of herself.

"Ugh!" she screamed into her pillow. Here she was thinking how understanding he was, and how helpful he seemed. But that was part of the act wasn't it? To further it along but it must have gotten out of hand with Skeeter's involvement. Now he had to come clean before facing his mother.

She sat up wiping away the tears as her temper made an appearance. Merlin, she acted like such a fool. She allowed herself to be drawn in, quickly believing, and now she was embarrassed.

If that would have been the worst of it, it would have been no problem, she could handle that, but there was something more. And that something more hurt more than all the other stuff combined.

**WMWMWMWMWMWMWM**

With Molly's footsteps a distant echo in George's ears he stopped outside a door debating on whether to knock. The decision was taken out of his hands when it opened before him.

"What have you done now?" a voice asked amused.

"Made a muddle of things as usual," he confessed.

"Well, don't keep standing on the doorstep like a kicked puppy," she motioned him inside. "Let's see if we can fix it."

"It's not going to be easy."

"Nothing ever is with you. Spill it," she said settling down into a comfy chair.

George remained standing, pacing actually through the whole narrative. His back faced her as he finished an anxious stillness weighing him down.

A snort disguised as a cough broke the silence followed by an escaped full out belly laugh. She continued laughing as he turned to face her. The serious expression on his face made her hand fly up to cover her mouth but the tears forming in her eyes told him she was still laughing.

"I'm sorry," she choked. "Only you," a chortle, "could wind up in," a giggle, "a situation such as this."

"It's not funny," he insisted which only sufficed to drive her into another gale of laughter.

She sobered somewhat when he drove his hands through his hair. A clear sign he was terribly disturbed by the turn of events.

"Ok," she announced. "I gather from your story this wasn't intended to be a joke. Considering you've spent the entire day trying to figure out exactly what happened then trying to find solutions to said problem. And with what you thought was a stroke of genius you suggested playing it off as a joke. Only she misunderstood you, and now you're in hot water."

"Yes that sums it up rather nicely," he remarked sarcastically.

"Oh, George, you've truly got yourself into a spot this time. If it were anyone but Hermione Granger I could offer advice." George shot her a look like, what good are you, "What I can tell you," she continued, "is that you've both blown the whole thing out of proportion. Take a step back. You're just two people who made a mistake when under the influence of alcohol. Certainly not the first in history and you won't be the last. My advice is to talk to her. Simple and plain, make it straight to the point."

"I already knew all of that," he said exasperated.

"Then why'd you come here," she questioned insolently responding to his tone.

"How do I fix this?" he repeated. "Not the she's mad at me thing because of what I said, but the whole thing," his hands made a wide circle in front of him to illustrate his point. "What do I do now? I'm married," he explained his voice rising with each word, "to Hermione Granger of all people. How did this happen?" his hands fell dejectedly down to his sides.

**WMWMWMWMWMWMWM**

Hermione rose from her miserable position on the bed. What in the world am I doing? She stood purposefully striding to her door. There she looked in the full length mirror.

"What is wrong with you?" she said aloud to her reflection. "Pull it together. You have never been the simpering, witless, spineless jellyfish like those you shared your dorm with. Straighten up, get it together." She gave herself a stern look reminiscent of McGonagall.

Tears, embarrassment, and all those other emotional out bursts weren't going to help her situation. What she needed was a plan. Her brain worked to catch up, an idea forming. Yes of course in order to plan what to do next she needed to know how she ended up in this situation. Yes, that's it, she thought.

She had to push all the other stuff out; there was no room for it. She sighed heavily, shaking her head at the reflection. She barely recognized herself in her actions since Saturday. What possessed her to become so smashed?

She knew what. All her friends had paired off exceedingly well, even Ron. He had no trouble moving on from their relationship. She let out a groan at the word. Relationship, bah. So what if the boy she'd liked since second year had finally gotten the courage to kiss her, oh wait no he hadn't, she'd kissed him. Anyway they'd finally gotten together, they'd been a couple. Something that everyone saw happening from the beginning, something that had been expected, and something that was supposed to have been perfect. The most absolutely right thing. Then it had fallen apart.

And where was she? Left with no one, avoiding her friends because she'd failed. She couldn't bear to look in their eyes knowing she'd let them down, because her and Ron were expected. No doubt planned by some, encouraged by all, and finished before it was over.

A mutual decision because honestly they didn't work as a couple. Bad timing. What an excuse on their parts. A plausible one, but seriously. Ugh. She hated thinking about it. One convenient excuse she gave herself for avoiding Harry, Ginny, and everyone else she knew because they knew all the same people.

Their lives were so intertwined. If he hadn't went to help George they would have even been working in the same place. Too much of one person. Instant friends afterwards, it didn't happen, not in real life.

She had put it behind her, and she meant what she said to Ron, she did miss his friendship. It's just that the whole situation left her alone, isolated. A great deal of it her fault, she admitted.

Saturday just rubbed it in. Everyone else had been continuing while she hid away licking her wounds. Her greatest fear of being alone, and unlovable exploded in front of her. Then George had looked at her, a connection made. She hadn't felt so alone. In fact other feelings crept in. A shiver coursed down her spine.

All right maybe she did have a good reason for becoming completely trashed with all that floating in her consciousness. It'd drive anyone to drink.

She'd only wanted to relax a little, have some fun. Isn't that what it was all about? The one night she had to legitimately celebrate herself without question.

How had her life become such a shamble from one night?

She should have stayed home with the laundry. So what if it was boring? So what if it was safe? At least she wouldn't be in such a mess.

_But you wouldn't have snogged George Weasley either. A most enjoyable experience,_ the voice insisted.

Ugh, she moaned disgusted with herself. Her subconscious needed to go away.

_Admit it,_ it demanded.

"Fine," she said. "I snogged George Weasley." _And. _"And it was enjoyable." _To say the least. _

Wait a minute she thought. The voice had been steering her away from George.

_Yeah well you changed your own mind._

What's that supposed to mean? She waited. Where did you go now? I didn't change anything.

Frustrating. The whole entire situation was completely frustrating.

"I will get it together," she admonished. "And I know exactly how to start."

**WMWMWMWMWMWMWM**

It was finally sinking in. The depth of his mistakes, the implications of the article, the howler from his mother, everything had hit him. It had been processing all day but now he felt it, he knew it.

His wide eyes rose up to meet hers. She was staring at him as if he'd grown a third head.

"A.." she cleared her throat, "are you all right?"

"No," he answered plainly. "I wish it were a joke."

"George," she rose to move closer to him. Her hand stroked his back tentatively in a comforting gesture.

"Oh, Katie," he said, "I have messed up."

"Come on, it isn't as bad as it seems. The only reason it seems insurmountable is because of that Skeeter hag."

"Yes, one night of ignorant bliss is turned into a media frenzy. Completely ridiculous, and if it were anyone else I'd be in stitches commenting about the stupid bloke."

She smiled. He'd be okay; he just needed to get it out.

"All day we've been going round in circles, accomplishing nothing. I still don't know what we're going to do. Come clean, I guess. It's what she wanted to do since the beginning."

"I don't understand why that wasn't your first and only plan of action," she stated appraising him. He was holding something back. "George," she said hesitantly.

"Yeah?"

"Why did you fight Hermione on admitting what happened?"

"I don't know what you mean."

"It's just that you said it's what she wanted to do, why didn't you agree?" Her questions stumped him. "I don't get it."

"Me either, me either," he said. "I'd better go. Thanks you've been a real pal."

"Always, George," Katie used to be Bell now Wood said. "Oliver will be sorry he missed you."

"Nah, it wasn't a quidditch visit." The half-smile faltered when he heard the door close. Katie had unintentionally struck close to the crux of the matter. Why had he fought so hard? In hindsight it wasn't the smartest course. His senses were overloaded with the influx of information. Even so a revelation sprang forth. He George Weasley was falling for Hermione Granger. No, he corrected had fallen. Yes it was true he was head over heels for his wife.

"How about that?"

**WMWMWMWMWMWMWM**

Once again George found himself before a door debating on whether to knock or walk away. A sense of déjà vu had the hairs on his neck rising to attention as the door opened.

"George," Hermione smiled. He swallowed nervously. An element of her smile was off. He stared at her wisely keeping his mouth shut. Sweat beaded on his upper lip, his palms were also noticeably wetter. Wiping them on his jeans he waited for her next words.

"Just the person I've been," an emphasis on the next word, "wanting to see."

"Not bloody likely," he mumbled. He alternated between looking at the sidewalk and her face. He tried to figure out what was off. Suddenly it struck him. She was calm, too calm. It was like the calm before the storm. The story of the canaries filtered through his brain. He quickly checked to see if there was a wand in her hand.

"Oh yes, exactly the person I need. You see, George, I want you."

* * *

_Please review, it would be greatly appreciated._


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: **_I apologize for the terrible time inbetween updates. I developed writer's block with this chapter and for some reason completely lost the flow of the story. I think I got it back and I hope you enjoy it. _

**Chapter 11**

"I want you," she whispered into his ear brushing the lobe with her lips. His arms tightened around her waist pulling her body closer to his. She felt the tremor skate through his limbs. Their lips met in a furious battle as the passion raged through them. George's hands roamed over her back in a seductive up and down motion. Hermione moaned into his mouth, her own hands beginning to explore his body.

Becoming bolder George let his hands slide under her shirt on the way back up causing her to gasp at the sudden feel of skin on skin. George pressed further into her coming undone by the sounds escaping from her.

"George," her voice a husky whisper pleading for something. His hands drifted down her back over the waistband of her jeans and further down tightening, molding her bottom with his fingers. She quivered beneath his touch, her legs rising up around him at his urgings. Her back braced against the wall her fingers found his shoulders then tangled in his hair as he placed small kisses on her throat before finding her lips once more. Lost in their own consumption of one another the outside world faded away.

"George," Hermione said firmly, "I want you." Her sharp tone pulled him from the hazy mist of memory.

"Beg pardon," he leaned toward her to ensure he didn't mishear her.

"Well, your mind anyway," she amended quickly seeing his expression.

George was speechless. His heart was racing. The previous statement had completely caught him off guard spurring a flash in his conscious. She wanted him. Wait, he tried to tell his raging hormones. She wanted his mind. His mind?

The confusion must have been evident on his face.

"Fine then, your memories."

"Hermione, I told you I don't remember anything..." a blush staining his cheeks. The pictures of a moment ago trying to flow back into his mind.

"Yes, yes, I know," she waved her hand dismissively. She turned back into her house. He followed. "But," she turned in the kitchen doorway, "you remember more than I do. I want to see what you have in hopes it will spark something in mine."

"I don't know how well that will work."

"Neither do I, but it's worth a shot. It isn't going to hurt to try."

"No I suppose not."

"I've thought this through."

"I can see that."

"I'll have to go see Harry."

"Why?"

"He has a pensieve."

"Oh, right," he answered distractedly. He was trying to make sense of this. His brain and body were at odds. His brain was processing her words and actions, while his body was still clinging to her earlier statement. It resulted in bewilderment.

"I don't see the need in both of us going."

"Going where?" he missed something. Trying to keep himself under control was taking more concentration than he thought would be necessary. The conversation kept slipping through his focus.

"To Harry's of course."

"Oh, the pensieve. I can go."

"No, it's all right I was going to go. I was on my way out actually."

"Hermione, I'm perfectly capable of retrieving a bowl."

"It isn't just a bowl," she defended sharply.

"Okay, okay," he said putting his hands up in mock surrender, "a very nicely decorated bowl."

She scowled at him. "Is there some other reason it has to be you?" he asked.

"Harry isn't very open to sharing his personal belongings."

"What?" Harry had never been the selfish type. He cocked an eyebrow at her.

She appeared to be flustered for a moment, "The pensieve was Dumbledore's and it's rather special to Harry. The last time someone asked to borrow it, he refused."

"Who was it?"

"Someone at the ministry I believe. Anyway that's not the point. The point is," she said stressing her pronunciation, "someone close to Harry should ask."

"That's an excellent plan, Hermione, but it'll have to wait."

"Wait, why should it?"

"Because I've been thinking."

She flashed him a truly incredulous look.

He made a face at her, "It does happen you know. We should just come clean like you wanted. I mean we made an honest mistake could happen to anyone."

"Right, well then." Now she was unsure of her next move. Hermione cleared her throat and began to speak, but George interrupted.

"The first thing we should do is go to the ministry and get the marriage dissolved or whatever."

"Uh-huh," she muttered again contemplating how much thought he'd actually put into this.

"I'm not sure how we go about that, but we'll have to be careful. I have no doubt that Skeeter will be staked out, or will have placed someone there on look-out to alert her. I'm sure she's just waiting for us to slip up, again," George paced as he rambled on. The thoughts flying through his mind came flying out of his mouth as well.

Hermione watched George warily. He was still muttering things even though she could not hear them. She placed her fingers on the bridge of her nose trying to stifle the headache she felt coming on.

"George, okay. That's enough. You've been mumbling for the last five-minutes."

"Sorry," he glanced at her sheepishly.

"It seems like our decision has been made so first thing in the morning we'll take care of it."

"Yes, in the morning," he smiled too brightly. "I should be going."

"I'll walk you out," Hermione said allowing her features to show her real emotions only after he'd turned away from her. She kept her head downcast so when he paused and turned she ran straight into him.

George placed his hands on her arms to steady Hermione. She was much closer than he thought. She slowly raised her eyes to meet his.

Hermione noticed a moment of indecision in George's eyes before his lips descended on hers. She knew she should pull away, she should stop this, but then his tongue traced the line of her lips sending shivers down her spine. Without her brain telling her to her whole body had started to respond.

George was on the verge of panicking when he felt Hermione's lips return the pressure. Her arms snaked their way around his neck, and his automatically wrapped around her waist.

Hermione melted into George reveling in the tiny pleasures rippling through out her body. A feeling of familiarity swept over her, a sense of déjà vu that rung true but was beginning to feel false. Reluctantly her hands fell to his chest to nudge him away and before she could lose her nerve because George was excelling in the art of seduction she pulled away from him.

"George," she said her voice barely a whisper, clearing her throat she tried again. "George, what are we doing?"

"I thought it was obvious," he smirked panting a bit to catch his breath. His only thoughts centered on tasting her lovely lips again.

"I know what it is we're doing," she said taking a step back. The heat between their bodies was distracting her. She almost whimpered at the loss of contact with him but she held herself in check. "I mean why are we doing this?"

He sighed, he should have known she would want to delve into this and reach some sort of explanation. "Hermione," he paused searching for the right words. Somehow he figured that 'I'm in love you' would be too much too soon, she'd probably hex him or run for the hills. Either option did not represent what he wanted.

"I, uh, think it's clear by now that I am attracted to you," he managed to state.

Hermione curiously gazed at him as if she didn't know the meaning of the words. "You're attracted to me?" she echoed.

"Yes," he said simply.

She shook her head, "What?"

"Hermione," he all but begged. "I have feelings for you."

"Yeah, I know and you've made them pretty clear in the past. So why would you be saying that you like me?" Her brain was whirring. Thoughts and ideas chased each other in a merry-go-round fashion inside her skull. As much as she tried she couldn't grasp exactly what George was trying to say. This worried her because she was pretty quick on the uptake of things.

"Because I do. I can't explain it all right," he said frustration growing in his tone.

"Don't get mad at me. I'm just trying to figure this out."

"Me too."

"I think you should leave," she offered putting her arms around her own chest in a self hugging embrace.

"Huh?"

"I need to sort all of this. I need to do it alone."

"But shouldn't we try that together," he argued.

"No," she quickly admonished feeling the blush taint her cheeks.

"Why not?" he asked.

"Because," she stuttered. 'I can't think when you're near me. You drive me to distraction, and do you wear anything besides jeans that look oh so good?' Giving herself a mental shake Hermione tried to pull herself together.

George's temper was simmering for some unfathomable reason. "I'm waiting."

"It's just...." she could not admit her real feelings to him, not yet. Although he had laid his out she felt the need to hold back. "George," she said pleadingly.

"Oh bloody hell," he muttered before moving toward the front door. He opened it and then turned to face her once again. "I never took you for a coward."

"Now wait just a minute," she sputtered indignantly. "Where do you get off..." the statement drifted off.

"Poor word choice," snarked George.

"Look," Hermione said her own anger building. "You come over here and start rambling about how to end this relationship or whatever it is and then you tell me you have feelings for me. It's a bit much and I'm having trouble processing all this. I just need some time to think without you hovering over me," she practically shouted the last few words while poking a finger at his chest. When her finger actually touched him she jumped. How did she get so close to him?

He stared hard at her for a minute. His mind and body were in an enraged argument.

"Bloody hell," he said again turning to leave. "You know something," he twisted back to face Hermione. "I think you have feelings for me to," he commented quietly.

Hermione shook her head sadly in response unable to utter the real words.

"Don't tell me no, I can prove it." Her eyes rose to meet his as he stepped in her direction. Her eyes widened in surprise as he leaned into her. She bowed her head to avoid seeing the desire raging in his gaze.

George's fingers gently touched Hermione's chin, barely giving it a nudge.

"Tell me you don't want me," he whispered. Hermione trembled. His lips tenderly caressed hers for the briefest of moments. It was the softest kiss she'd ever experienced.

George let his forehead touch hers. He knew she had to make the next move; he couldn't do it for her. It was something she had to do on her own. And when her lips found his he wasn't disappointed.

Kissing George took Hermione into realms she had never dreamed of. She may not be able to speak the words but actions were most definitely louder.

"OH MY!" a startled voice shrieked.

George and Hermione broke from their passionate embrace to face the intruder.

"It's true then," an ecstatic Mrs. Molly Weasley proclaimed.

* * *

_Reviews would be greatly appreciated. Thank you._


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N:** _Thanks to my wonderful beta Alicia. And thank you to those of you who reviewed I enjoyed reading them and it encouraged me to get this chapter up faster than I planned. So enjoy!_

**Chapter 12**

"Mrs. Weasley," Hermione said weakly a look of mortification on her face. She buried her face into George's back. **The** Mrs. Weasley saw Hermione kissing **her** son, and kissing him like that. Oh goodness. She wanted the floor to open up and swallow her.

"Mum!" an equally embarrassed George said.

"Oh, I didn't mean to interrupt," Mrs. Weasley beamed. "I don't know what to say. I mean I was in a tizzy earlier, I just couldn't believe it. Then I saw these pictures," she drew their gazes to the manila envelope in her hand, "and then I see you two, well..." she allowed her words to fade as she motioned to the couple. "I am thrilled for both of you. George and Hermione. It's just splendid," she admitted clapping her hands in rapture.

"But," Hermione protested weakly.

"Mum, you..." George tried as well.

"Of course it is disconcerting for events to unfold this way," Molly said sternness creeping back into her tone. "I can only hope you had the foresight to talk to poor Ron. Although from the looks of things," she shook the envelope, "I don't suppose you had any foresight at all. Honestly, you could have at least told us at your birthday luncheon," she admonished Hermione. "Disrespectful and disgraceful to let your family," she stressed the words emphasizing her point, "find out in such a manner as Witch Weekly." Molly ended her tangent with several tsks.

Hermione opened her mouth to speak again but was overwhelmed. She didn't know which point to address first or how to explain the situation to Mrs. Weasley without making herself sound like a complete and utter tart.

"Mum," repeated George, "we didn't mean for this to happen," he admitted truthfully.

"Oh I should hope not," agreed Mrs. Weasley. "I never thought you'd intended your happy occasion to be fodder for that awful Skeeter woman. But really why didn't you tell us?" The way she said the word us gave no doubt she meant her specifically.

"We didn't think..."

"It doesn't seem like you did," Molly once again agreed cutting George off. "I suppose we should respect your privacy and what not," Molly's tone implied nothing of the sort would be appropriate. "But you should have concerned yourselves enough to bother with certain details. Eloping of all things, I mean naturally a scandal could have been prevented if you'd taken the right precautions."

"Mrs. Weasley, what we're trying to say is..."

"No need to apologize, deary. Believe it or not I remember what it was like to be young and in love." She smiled wistfully at them. "Yes, I can see how things become. But as long as you're happy, a mother can't complain."

Hermione shook her head dejectedly. How in the world were they going to explain the situation to her when she kept up a steady rambling. And just look at the happiness etched onto her face. How could they crush that?

George chanced a glance at Hermione reading his own feelings reflected back at him. They were losing ground fast with his mum, if they had any to begin with.

"Mum, we really need to talk about this," he squared his shoulders ushering her to the couch.

"That's what we're doing, sweetheart."

"No, mum, I think you need the full story."

"Yes of course," she beamed her mega watt smile expecting details of their nuptials. "From what I gathered from the pictures I'm not sure there is much else to say. They speak for themselves really."

"Lovely pictures," said Hermione sarcastically.

"Oh, they are absolutely wonderful. You're so lucky to have had someone taking them. They're almost as good as being there."

Hermione and George both snapped to.

"I can't help myself when I think I missed out on such a joyous occasion."

They'd expected anger, a good scolding; instead they were going to get tears.

"Oh, mum, don't cry," pleaded George. Hermione sighed heavily giving George a sharp look.

He shrugged helplessly motioning toward his mother whose bent head spoke volumes. They both heard the sniffling. Hermione shook her head, they had to tell her. She pointed fiercely at him them at Mrs. Weasley.

"Mrs. Weasley," Hermione began.

"Call me Molly, dear. You're truly family now." Ouch Hermione thought. She'd dreamed of this moment. Only it was nothing as she'd imagined.

"Molly," said Hermione framing the name noting the weirdness as she spoke. "There's something we have to tell you," she said gently clasping Molly's hand.

The brightening of Molly's eyes followed by the quick intake of air had Hermione vehemently denying.

"No."

"That would explain the rush of matters," stated Mrs. Weasley ignoring Hermione's denial. A new kind of happiness invaded the older woman's world. The elation swept aside the impropriety lecture as she pictured a red headed granddaughter with Hermione's curls, and George's eyes.

"No, Mrs. Weasley," Hermione reverted loosening the hold on the older woman's hand.

"Mum," George said firmly, "Hermione isn't pregnant. That's not what we want to talk to you about."

"Oh." Sadness tinged her voice, but she reminded herself of the recent cavorting she'd witnessed, it'd only be a matter of time.

Reading the look in her eyes, "Mum, we're not giving you grandchildren."

"Not now," confided Mrs. Weasley, "but soon."

"No," disputed Hermione, "we really need to discuss the situation at hand." Hermione fervently wished to rein in the conversation. This was getting way out of hand. They needed to come clean and get it all out in the open.

A sudden light dawned in Mrs. Weasley's eyes. "Right, I best be going. You two newlyweds will want time alone; I better get back to the Burrow. After all I didn't mean to impose or interrupt," she smiled slyly at the couple.

"That's not it," declared George ruffling his hair in an impatient action. "It's about the story in Witch Weekly. This whole mess actually, mum..." he searched for the right words.

"We didn't intend this to happen. The whole thing," Hermione gestured with her hands trying to assist George.

"Saturday night was supposed to be a bit of fun and things went too far," confessed George. "It was Hermione's birthday and we all wanted to celebrate. We all went out to a club, we were..." once again George paused.

"Things got out of hand. We got carried away," continued Hermione.

"Yes, dears, of course. I can see how that would happen. The young," she grinned fondly at them. "Like I said no apologies necessary, we'll mend things in time. Now really I must be off," she said determinedly brooking no argument as she walked briskly to the front door. Then turned toward them, "I disprove of how this came about, but honestly I'm thrilled." The look she bestowed on them told far more than she was saying.

"Mum, wait you're not listening..." George moved in the direction of the door.

"Molly, we're not finished explaining..." called Hermione exasperated standing to follow. Both were silenced by the faint pop. Hermione barely resisted the urge to bang her head repeatedly against the wall.

"We didn't tell her," Hermione announced wearily.

"I realized that," snarked George.

"She thinks we're married for real."

"Yeah, I'm not sure she was listening at all."

"We have to go after her, we have to explain this."

"Right, we'll go right now and tell her how we both got so pissed that we don't remember getting married. Youthful exuberance and all that."

Pondering this latest upset Hermione remarked, "I haven't seen her that happy in a long time."

"Yeah," agreed George smiling at the happiness his mother was now experiencing. Frowning he imagined it crumbling because they told her the truth. Distraught, she'd be distraught.

"She worries about you," Hermione said her mood contemplative.

"Yes I know. Entirely too much," he mentioned quietly. Since the final battle his mother had upped her worrying. She tried to be discreet but it was obvious in every gesture, every word of support and for a while there she had reason to worry. But recently George had been doing much better. He was better.

"I don't think I can do it," she said sadly disturbing his musings.

"Do what?" a hint of puzzlement flowing.

"She was so happy. It's been so long since I've seen her smile that way." Hermione didn't remember the last time she'd seen Mrs. Weasley smile with such carefree abandonment. Losing her son had sent her into a dark place where true happy moments were few.

"Hermione, we have no choice but to tell her the truth. If we're going to have it annulled or whatever we'll have to tell her," George stated adamantly although regrettably. He was repulsed by the idea of stripping his mother of her short moment of lighthearted glee.

"I know."

"Might as well get it over with," suggested George grimly.

They trudged to Hermione's door defeat echoing in their steps.

"Miss Granger," a firm voice spoke before they could apparate.

"Mr. Pritchard?" surprise and indignity evident in her widened eyes.

"I see you're feeling better then."

A moment of confusion crossed her mind. Harry's excuse for her leaving work so abruptly.

"Yes thank you, you didn't have to drop by to check on me."

"I didn't," he stated blankly. "This," he held the now wrinkled magazine up, "is a problem that we must discuss." He eyed her pointedly.

"Of course, won't you please come in," she moved to the door ushering him in. George followed behind the disgruntled man and a cringing Hermione.

"I don't need to explain how this kind of publicity will affect our department. The ministry being under constant scrutiny I would expect better behavior from one of our most esteemed employees."

Hermione resisted the urge to roll her eyes. She was still a bit stunned at his audacity for coming to her home.

"As the department head I must take responsibility for all subordinates and consequently their actions. This stunt must be dealt with. Since it was of a personal nature and done on time off there isn't much I can officially do, however I must warn you, Miss Granger, this is a serious grievance. Already our department has been flooded with owls about this debacle. And unfortunately, some believe there is cause for a formal inquiry."

"Sir?"

"I'm not the one instigating it, nor do I fully approve of it. I offered a reprimand instead although some do not deem that efficient or severe enough. You represent the ministry and certain officials see this as an affront to the ministry. Some of the older generation thinks you should be held accountable for your actions. While an inquiry has not been officially declared I suggest you prepare yourself." He stood to leave.

"I don't see how they can justify this."

"Hermione," Mr. Pritchard softened, "not everyone is enthusiastic about the work we're doing. There are plenty of people who want to see you fail, want to see you discredited. This kind of incident is what they need to suit their purposes. I know I've not been the easiest of bosses; however I consider myself a fair man. I don't appreciate what they're doing to one of my most valued team members, but there won't be anything I can do to stop this. I'm sorry, and you should know you have my full support."

"So you think an inquiry will eventually happen?" asked George.

"Yes," Mr. Pritchard bluntly stated. "It's only a matter of time unless you can get some kind of control of this."

"Thank you, Mr. Pritchard," Hermione replied sullenly.

"Minister Shacklebolt is trying to stop this before it comes to an inquiry."

"But, sir, if he interferes too much..." her words drifted off at the implications.

Mr. Pritchard nodded in agreement. "Take care of this," he insisted showing himself out.

"Are they allowed to do this inquiry thing?" George questioned when her boss was gone.

"Apparently."

"It hasn't happened yet," he infused his voice with hope.

"Only a matter of time," she sulked repeating Mrs. Weasley's earlier sentiments. She sunk down on the couch placing her head in her hands in an utterly defeated posture. Unbelievable. She hadn't wrapped her mind around it completely.

"Mr. Pritchard doesn't seem as scary as you painted him," said George sitting beside her, placing a comforting hand on her back. He rubbed in slow smooth circles trying to relieve some of her tension.

"An unsuspected ally," she claimed. Relaxing a small measure as his hand continued to stroke her.

"Maybe," began George.

"Please, don't be optimistic, let me have my sullen moment," she said keeping her head down.

"Fine, Miss Grumpy. I've never understood the glass half-empty people, it's both. Half-full and half-empty."

Hermione managed to lift her head to give him a dubious look. George grinned at her vexation. She shook her head slowly wondering how exactly George's mind worked. A knock at the door distracted the pair.

"What now?" Hermione inquired grouchily. Standing she made her way to the door with trepidation at what waited on the other side. Considering the day's events she wasn't sure what more she might be able to handle. Pulling she saw a concerned Harry on her doorstep.

"Hermione, I just spoke to Kingsley," he hurriedly pronounced.

"The inquiry," she said despondently.

Harry stopped short, "How did you know?" He asked brushing past her into the hall then into the living room giving George a nod.

"Mr. Pritchard came by," she replied joining the two men.

"Then you understand an inquiry is only a possibility. It isn't happening," Harry tried unsuccessfully to assure her.

"Don't forget the yet, Harry."

"There must be something we can do," insisted George.

"You have to tell your side."

"What?" Hermione asked incredulously.

"It's worked before," said Harry sitting in a chair waiting for Hermione to take the couch opposite. "The two of you have to go public and tell your side of the story. All we've heard is Skeeter's skewed view of events. In all honesty it's personal business and the ministry has no right to interfere. They're out of bounds and you have to make people see this."

"How do we do that?" George asked feeling responsible for the entire mess.

"You'll have to talk..."

"We can't do that," objected Hermione. "We don't have our side of the story. And besides how favorable is it going to look on us when we admit to being too drunk to remember what happened. Having this classified as a drunken escapade is not going to help."

"What if it wasn't a drunken escapade?"

"It was," Hermione answered lamely.

"It doesn't have to be," remarked George earnestly.

* * *

_Please remember to review! It would be greatly appreciated._


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: **Thanks to my beta Alicia. Great job as always! Now enjoy!

**Chapter 13**

"George, what are you saying? I mean it can't be anything other than what it is," explained Hermione logically.

"No, listen. We're the only ones who know what happened." He held a hand up to forestall the interruption. "All Skeeter has is speculation."

"Her speculations, in this case, appear to be true. There is nothing we can do but admit the truth and let the pieces fall where they may."

"Callous attitude for the one about to be facing an inquiry," commented Harry.

Brown eyes flashed a dangerous look in his direction. "I'm not being callous, but I don't see any other options. And you're not helping," she added viciously.

"There's always more than one option," smirked George seeing some fight coming back into Hermione.

"Not this time."

"Hermione, where is your Gryffindor spirit?"

"What?" she demanded, the anger starting a slow burn.

"It's like you're rolling over and letting them walk all over you," added Harry hiding a grin as Hermione came out of her dejection.

"I am not," she defended petulantly. "I resent that. I'm not accustomed to allowing people to," she mustered all the disdain she could emphasizing her next word, "walk all over me."

"So why are you letting them now?" questioned George obnoxiously.

Hermione's incredulous look almost made George laugh. "I don't believe I am."

"She's right," Harry agreed. "Hermione's not allowing," Harry tossed the word back to Hermione with a smirk, "Rita Skeeter to walk over her. Skeeter is stomping her into the ground."

The words of gratitude poised on Hermione's lips died suddenly replaced with rebellion. "She is not. I can't believe this."

"Right mate, she's bulldozing her into a pancake," added George.

Indignity rose inside Hermione. How could they possibly think she'd roll over for that hideous, lying, foul-mouthed, pathetic excuse for a journalist? Saccharine sweetness laced her tone, "What you gentlemen seem to forget is the small fact that Skeeter is telling the truth this time. It's a simple thing really for you see she seems to know exactly what happened while we don't remember," she laughed hollowly. "So if you're done acting like there's some kind of solution to this predicament besides telling the truth I'm all ears." She turned her fake smile upon them gesturing for them to share their brilliant idea.

Harry fidgeted slightly reading the tell tale signs of another Hermione rampage coming on. George on the other hand smiled jovially.

"That's just it Hermione, dearest. We do have another solution." George gestured to Harry and himself, "It's what we've been trying to get you to see for the last thirty minutes. I thought you were the cleverest."

Incensed Hermione didn't know which she needed to address first this so-called solution or the blatant insult to her intelligence. Luckily, Harry was quick enough to come to the rescue only he wasn't sure if it were Hermione's or George's.

"It's obvious what you have to do," stated Harry simply. "If it weren't for the implications at work then I would say go ahead and tell the truth, but it's more complicated than that. So," paused Harry taking a deep breath before plunging, "you should pretend it was real."

"Pretend what was real?" panic reared its misshapen head. They weren't thinking what she thought they were thinking.

George interpreting Harry's intentions supplied, "The marriage."

"What?" squeaked Hermione.

"I know it isn't the best plan," admitted George.

"It isn't a plan at all," shrieked Hermione feeling like this whole conversation was repetitive.

"I'll schedule a meeting with Dennis Creevey. He'll tell your side of the story without all the bias."

"Not all," smiled George.

"Guess not, only he's got the right kind," grinned Harry. "I'll leave you two alone so you can get the details down."

"Thanks Harry."

Hermione sat motionless as George saw Harry out. Shaking her head she tried to make sense of what exactly was happening. The way they were acting it was all settled. Her eyes widened in sudden shock as the full repercussions appeared to her.

George sauntered into the room his Cheshire grin in place. "Brilliant."

"No it isn't. This is possibly the worst idea I've ever heard it's idiocy, complete and utter foolishness. No I refuse to be a part of this," she stubbornly crossed her arms over her chest fuming.

Taken aback by her fervent denial George stared open-mouthed at her. "Gees, Hermione, I can see how being married to me would be an unusual idea. But I don't think you should find the possibility so distasteful."

"Oh, George, it isn't that," her tone softened at his crestfallen expression. "It's just to fabricate a story like this when people know the truth, know we're lying. How is it supposed to be successful?"

"That's a valid point, I'll agree. However, you seem to forget some key details," he said wiping the self-satisfied smirk off Hermione's face.

"And what are they?"

"Well for one the public's profound dislike of Rita Skeeter for her atrocious articles against Dumbledore and Harry. Look at what she's been reduced to, writing the gossip column. That's all this story is, plain old-fashioned gossip. Normally I'd let it run its course but Harry's right it's more complicated."

Hermione bit her lip as she digested this information. George felt some hope returning to the situation.

"What are your other points?"

Sensing victory George labored to find the right phrasing, "Secondly no one out there knows the real story of what happened. Yes they witnessed something but they don't know what was going through our heads nor do they know why we did what we did. They've only got their speculations and their version of events. Most people tend to believe the actual participants because their vision isn't as skewed as people who were merely there." He paused to see if she were going to argue the point. When she didn't he continued, "And lastly you're Hermione Granger, the heroine, who helped the boy who conquered defeat the dark lord. You helped make the wizarding world safe for the masses. Yes, there are people out there who want to knock you down a peg or two, but there are more of them who trust you. That trust will work in our advantage." As soon as he'd spoken the words he cringed. She'd been listening intently following, but now she'd tensed up.

"So you think I should abuse the trust I've earned. I mean that's a lovely speech, George, but I'd be lying to all those people. I can't do that."

"I didn't mean..."

"Of course you didn't."

"I'm only trying to protect you, besides it's not like you haven't lied to everyone before."

"Yes, I may have lied, but it was for the greater good. It wasn't for selfish reasons."

"Think of all the good that will be accomplished."

"What?"

George searched his mind for some intelligent argument to rectify the situation. "All the magical creatures you're going to help by not having your good reputation sullied."

"That's very thin."

"I may not be able to phrase my reasoning as eloquently as you. But that doesn't matter, what matters is this is a viable option, really the only one that's acceptable. Imagine the consequences of telling the truth. The inquiry will happen, my mother's heart will be broken, and who knows what else."

"George, we're going in circles. This is getting us nowhere."

"Fine, I'll go. Just promise me you'll think about it. Seriously weigh all the possibilities."

She gave him a stony look telling him she refused to do even that much.

George lowered his voice into a deceptive persuading quality, "Please, Hermione, do this for me. I'm only asking you to do what you're already going to do anyway. Have an open mind."

"Okay," she relented.

"Promise."

"Yes, I promise, what do you want an unbreakable vow," she huffed.

"Well you know...."

"Good bye," she stated firmly.

"Night, Hermione." He walked to the door turning briefly to pierce her with a fierce stare. Then he quietly left Hermione alone to her own thoughts.

**WMWMWMWMWMWMWM**

"What do you think she'll do?"

"I have no idea," answered George honestly. "I thought I was getting through to her and then I bungled the whole lot of it."

"Hermione's tough when she has her mind made up."

"You would know."

"Yeah," Harry chuckled passing George another fire whiskey. The Leaky Cauldron was surprisingly quiet tonight.

"What are the odds she'll go for it?" George questioned seriously.

"Honestly?" George nodded. "They aren't great."

"It's what I thought."

"Then why'd you ask?"

"Sometimes I like to hear I'm wrong."

"You stay married to Hermione you'll hear it all the time," joked Harry.

"Guess so. She is a know it all."

Harry raised his glass in agreement. Both men took a good long pull.

**WMWMWMWMWMWMWM**

The know it all was currently mulling things over.

"This is completely insane," she announced to her empty kitchen. She took out a bottle of wine. Realizing what led her to this mess she quickly put it back grabbing a butter beer instead.

"He cannot be serious."

_There you go talking to yourself again._

"Oh do shut up. I don't need to hear voices as well."

_Touchy! Fine then I'll just be on my way without departing my sage advice._

Oh do get on with it, Hermione thought.

_Hhmmph. Don't know why I bother. Look I fail to understand you're reluctance to accept this chance of escaping this fiasco. It is the wisest course of action._

What pretending to be married?

_YES!_ The voice practically shrieked. _It provides you with unforetold advantages. Besides it's what you wanted. We both know you don't want to admit you've made a mistake. Now here's the solution that affords you with an easy way out and he's giving it to you._

Of course just lie to the entire world, Hermione argued grumpily.

_Pish tosh, you're not lying to the entire world. The muggle community could give a Hippogriff's arse about you're marrying George Weasley. _

Well I never.

_Oh do shut up! It's not as if it's this difficult a decision. You pretend to be married to a very successful, talented, and handsome wizard. Ooh big sacrifice there. It's him going to have the hard part of the bargain. He's the one being short changed. He's got to deal with you!_

Ugh, even her subconscious was betraying her. This was no good. She wasn't going to find an answer this way. Hermione went to her desk pulling out parchment and a quill. She made two columns. Her mind and hand worked feverishly listing all the pros and cons.

An hour later she angrily ripped up the paper being no closer to a decision. That's it I'm going to bed.

**WMWMWMWMWMWMWM**

The covers twisted tightly around George's body as he fitfully tossed and turned. Giving up he padded quietly to the kitchen trying not to disturb Harry who was passed out on the couch.

They'd stayed up late into the night talking and imbibing in Odgen's finest. Thankfully Harry had remembered to owl Ginny his where abouts or they'd have been dealing with a bat-bogey hex.

Rubbing his face vigorously George wiped away the image. He took his pumpkin juice back to his bedroom where he sat thinking of Hermione. The witch was fast becoming a habit. Good or bad he wasn't sure. He was becoming obsessed. He cared far too much about her decision. Sighing heavily he fell back onto the bed staring helplessly up at the ceiling.

**WMWMWMWMWMWMWM**

Not too far away Hermione was staring up at her own ceiling as sleep eluded her as well. Completely ridiculous she thought. Tears pricked her eyes at the unfairness of it all. If she were anyone else at all this would be a hilarious story told over and over again getting funnier each time. But no it wasn't that simple for Hermione Jean Granger. Oh no her bit of fun had to have calamitous consequences. Rolling over she closed her eyes trying to force sleep. Maybe she'd wake up in the morning and everything would be back to normal.

That's what she wanted. She wanted no needed things to fall back where they were supposed to. She desperately wanted to wake up to her regular life where she wasn't on the front page of Witch Weekly yet again, where she wasn't possibly facing an inquiry, where people didn't think she was a lush, and where she wasn't married to George Weasley. Not married to George. The idea wasn't as suddenly appealing as it should be.

**WMWMWMWMWMWMWM**

Dennis Creevey was busy setting up his camera. George paced the living room of his apartment. He nervously rubbed the back of his neck. Harry was getting ready to leave.

"Did you owl her the details?" George asked.

"Yes. I sent it all to her earlier this morning."

"Then where is she?" he asked anxiously eyeing Dennis' progress.

"She'll be here," Harry tried to instill his voice with confidence he didn't feel. His letter had described the benefits of telling her side of the story no matter which version she told. He'd included the time and location of the meeting with Dennis.

"Is Hermione running late?" inquired Dennis politely. He'd finished setting up and was eager to get this over with. Harry's request sent his editor into a tail spin assigning a strict deadline on this particular story.

"She's just..." George drifted off.

"I'm sure...." insisted Harry. Both looked at one another debating their next move. A wooshing sound drew their attention to the fireplace.

Hermione flooed in.

George and Harry both held their breath raising their eyes to gaze wonderingly at Hermione. She walked silently to George.

"Well?" he asked cautiously.

"I've made a decision."

* * *

_Thanks for reading now let me know what you think. _


	14. Chapter 14

**(A/N:** Real quick thanks to my beta Alicia. Also I wanted to apologize for the terribly long time between updates. I am sorry and I promise to try harder to get updates more quickly. No matter what I do intend to finish this story. Thanks to everyone who has reviewed, and added to your alert and/or favorite lists.**)**

**Chapter 14**

"And?" George asked nervously taking her hand pulling her further away from Dennis.

"We're coming clean." George merely shook his head in sadness or disappointment, Hermione was unsure of which. "Honestly, George, you didn't really expect me to change my mind," she admonished huffily fighting her own feelings of doubt.

"Course not," George replied halfheartedly. Giving himself a mental shake a bright smile lit his features. "Shall we, Miss Granger?" he questioned offering his arm to steer her to what could be an even bigger disaster.

Hermione allowed a tiny grin to grace her lips before steeling herself to what was to come. Taking a deep breath she took his arm as they turned to face an oblivious Dennis.

"Let's get started," Dennis suggested pointedly looking at his watch. A throat being cleared drew his attention to Harry who gave him a stern gaze. Sighing heavily Dennis turned back to his subjects. Deadline or no he apparently could not do a rush job of this interview, or at least not with Harry Potter being a witness to it. Why oh why did he get this particular assignment? One more glance in Harry's direction answered the inquiry. Because he'd been chosen, and you just cannot say no to the boy who saved us all. Was that ever going to get old?

Dennis had nothing but the utmost respect for Harry and his friends, but this kind of story was not his cup of tea and he did not relish the idea of a media war with Rita Skeeter. The woman had claws, sharp claws. Enough he thought, he had a job to do and he'd do it and consider the consequences later.

To ease the pair into the interview he began with the basic facts of the night before delving too deeply.

"It was a birthday celebration?" he asked politely.

"Yes," Hermione answered quickly her hand maintaining a grip on George's arm.

Dennis waited patiently for a more detailed response especially from Hermione. But when she remained silent he turned to George who had his attention focused on Hermione.

George tore his gaze away from the brunette beside him to offer a few more particulars. "Yes well seeing as Hermione works so hard. We all thought she deserved a night off and it being her birthday was an added bonus." He went on to describe the beginning of the night in a general sense leaving out most of the personal information.

Dennis led them through a series of simple questions trying to bring Hermione into the conversation. Most of the talking was being done by George who helped turn the situation into more of friends catching up than an actual press interview.

Hermione listened intently to George's answers while trying to think of something to say. All her well thought out rehearsed replies flew from her mind leaving it a blank slate. Impossible as it seemed Hermione was at a loss for the right answer. And these were the easy ones; she was getting more and more panicked when she thought about the harder ones. Unconsciously her hand tightened on George's arm. Absently he gently patted it neither gesture escaping the keen eyes of Dennis or Harry.

Laughing along with the joke George had just shared Dennis decided it was time to dig into the heart of the issue, "Did the two of you get married?"

"Yes, we did," confessed Hermione honestly.

"That's a well-known fact by now," offered George teasingly.

"Of course, but the reasoning behind such a decision is what keeps eluding the public," Dennis left the statement open to hopefully draw out an answer from the couple.

"And that's what we're here to explain," Hermione admitted strongly seeming to come back into her know it all-ness. "You see," she began then paused trying to remember the exact wording she'd rehearsed last night. Now is not the time to freeze up, she reprimanded herself.

"Yes," encouraged Dennis.

"We got married because..." once again syllables and sounds escaped Hermione's grasp. Her knuckles were turning white from gripping the red head. A moment of complete alarm stole over her and she turned helplessly to the man beside her.

Reading the blatant fear George jumped into the fray, "We're in love," he blurted.

**WMWMWMWMWMWMWM**

Oh no! No! No! No! Hermione thought now ensconced safely in her own flat. The interview was over and the article was being written as she paced frantically. Completely frazzled Hermione continued the circuit around her neatly organized belongings ringing her hands in a helpless gesture.

Horrible, no ghastly was the only way to describe that sham of an interview. She'd botched the entire thing. Thinking back on it she wasn't even sure if her responses were coherent when she actually managed to speak at all. This was supposed to have been her chance to explain exactly what had happened in a way to ensure the public's trust as well as their sympathy for the attack on her reputation by that dreadful Skeeter.

Or at least she'd told herself that over and over again last night as she'd practiced exactly what she'd been going to say.

"I should have written it down," she growled. "Then maybe just maybe I'd have been able to do something besides mumble."

Shaking her head in a dejected manner she desperately wanted her calm and cool demeanor to return.

"_You know what this means don't you?" _the voice asked in an ingratiatingly teasing manner.

"Not now, no I'm not up to matching wits with you today."

"_Yes well you should have thought before you allowed..."_

"Stop right there. I've made a total mess of things, I get it and no I didn't purposely sabotage the interview." Somehow Hermione knew exactly what the voice was going to say. It couldn't possibly be because it represented the small part that consisted of wanting.

**WMWMWMWMWMWMWM**

The fire crackled merrily lapping at the logs as well as occasional papers being thrown into it. Hermione watched absently as another piece of parchment curled in on itself then became ash.

"Hermione," a voice called softly drifting from the front door. An unsure step continued into her home. "Hermione," louder this time as the body belonging to the voice stepped up behind her.

Shaking his head Harry joined Hermione on the floor. "Thought you'd want to see this," he said handing over an advanced copy of The Daily Prophet.

"You thought wrong," Hermione disagreed pulling her knees into her chest so she could drop her head onto them.

"Well I think you've made the right decision," Harry offered enthusiastically.

A snort of disbelief escaped muffled by her position. "I didn't make any decision," she retorted. "All I did was make a mess of things."

"That's not true," declared Harry trying for a soothing tone. The dull glare he received startled him.

"Whatever you say," she said glumly.

Harry took another look around to gather exactly what kind of situation he had wondered in. Post was scattered around Hermione. A half-empty bottle of fire whiskey was resting within reach.

"Are you all right?" he asked stupidly.

"Of course," she replied half-heartedly too discouraged to even attempt a credible semblance of all right.

"Come off it."

"Seriously, I'm fine." She smiled weakly grabbing the bottle of fire whiskey to take a gulp.

"What are you doing?" the words thrown shrewdly at her.

"Gee, boy wonder, what does it look like I'm doing?" she snapped. "I'm having a drink," the last part she explained slowly as if speaking to a toddler.

"Maybe you've had enough," Harry said trying to make a grab for the bottle.

"Nope," admitted Hermione pulling it out of his reach, "not nearly enough. You see I can still remember."

"Remember what?" Harry asked hesitantly as Hermione's demeanor was starting to make him worry.

"That farce of an interview. I mean when have I never had an answer to a question?" She got up to stumble around her living room. "I'm bloody Hermione Granger, Head Girl, perfect Prefect, the know it all, and let's not forget the girl who helped bring down Voldemort. Voldemort for cripes sake," she ranted throwing her arms out managing to slosh out some of the fire whiskey. She didn't seem to notice. "I dueled with Bellatrix, rode a dragon, bloody hell, Harry, I fought in the final battle. I destroyed a Horcrux and you know what brings me down? A stupid interview for the effing gossip column of the Daily Prophet!" By the end her voice had risen to shouting. She looked helplessly at her best friend before collapsing onto the floor. The angry outburst drained her energy.

"Hermione..."

"Don't say it isn't that bad. Don't you dare," she gazed vehemently at him. "It's that bad if I say so, and I do say so."

"But..."

"No," she yelled. "There is no positive spin on this. Don't even bother trying to say there is. I mean it, Harry," she said shrilly. "If you even try I'll hex you into oblivion."

Harry sat silently watching as Hermione turned her gaze back toward the fire. Another few seconds and he made his move. His hand shot out quickly to wrench the bottle out of her grasp. What he hadn't factored were her sharp reflexes. Her hand tightened immediately on the bottle, his fingers barely managed to hold on as she pulled. They both fell over in a tangle of limbs.

After some scrabbling, and fumbling Harry let out a triumphed sigh as he held the bottle aloft. Hurriedly he untangled their arms and legs moving a safe distance away.

"Are you done with your pity party now?" he questioned bluntly.

"Ugh," she huffed her defeat. "I'll have to be."

"Look I know it's been a rough few days but enough is enough. Yes you are in an awkward situation but you've been in worse. Now where is your rallying spirit? This is so unlike you. I don't understand at all."

Hermione sat up appearing to listen intently. Harry wasn't sure exactly how much was penetrating the fog of fire whiskey but he continued, "I've brought more than the article. I did some research today."

An incredulous expression graced her features; a witty remark poised on her tongue was subdued by Harry's stern glower. "I've found some interesting information." He leaned over to grab the papers he'd laid down earlier. "It seems there are laws regarding wizarding marriage."

"What are you on about?" curiosity breaking through her drunken haze.

"A few years ago new laws were passed into effect concerning wizarding marriages. Apparently after Voldemort's fall a lot of wizards and witches were finding themselves in situations similar to yours. All the celebrating causing people to act spontaneously spurred the Ministry into action."

"You mean there are actual laws about drunken marriages?"

"Not exactly, the law I believe was passed to try and hamper the urge for such actions. You see in the wizarding world when one becomes married they must wait a year to annul the marriage."

"You've got to be joking."

"No I'm not. There's nothing to be done for a whole year. And if you did apply for an annulment you'd have to go through a series of interviews stating why you got married and so on. Your case would automatically be turned down. Inebriated people are always turned down. The law proved to be an effective deterrent. Marriage rates plummeted after its inception."

"So George and I are stuck being married to one another for a year? That's not possible; there must be some kind of loophole or something."

"You can always apply but they'll want to ensure you've tried making the marriage work."

"What do you mean?"

"They'll conduct interviews with each of you, your friends and family, and observe your interactions to ascertain whether or not you put effort into making the marriage a success."

"So if we were to try to get an annulment it would get the ministry even further involved?"

"Yes, so when I say you made the right decision, I mean it. If Skeeter found out you'd tried to get the marriage dissolved she'd have even more fodder for her ridiculous writing."

"So one of the key factors to pulling off this charade is to make sure we don't go to the ministry?"

"Yep, you're stuck in this situation for a year. You might as well make the most of it. At least this way your reputation is saved, Mrs. Weasley's heart isn't broken, and most importantly Rita Skeeter fails at her revenge."

"Yes, well thank you Harry. I do appreciate it," her sincere appreciation evident in her dejected tone.

"Perk up," Harry encouraged. "It's George; at least it isn't someone truly vile. You're friends you can get through this."

She nodded despondently. Picking up the closest thing she perused the letter before throwing it into the flames.

"What are you doing?" Harry once again glancing at the mess surrounding Hermione.

"It's my post. It's fourth year all over again. I can only imagine how it's going to get worse after tomorrow's edition of the Prophet," sighed Hermione.

"Want some help. Reading all of these can't be good for your health."

She laughed, "I haven't had any pus so far of course I've been discarding the heavier ones right away. I'd hate to have boils again."

"Why not just toss all of them?"

"Morbid curiosity I suppose. I mean I need to know what the public thinks. So far it isn't too pretty. Although the really entertaining ones are from all George's fans, who knew he had such a following. Young witches with their hearts broken because of my," she paused trying to remember the exact wording, "man stealing ways. You wouldn't believe how many ask for the love potion I used."

"As if you'd need one," admitted Harry absently. The complete honesty of the comment caused a huge grin to spread on Hermione's face. Harry continued reading oblivious to the effect his statement had.

**WMWMWMWMWMWMWM**

George read slowly through the papers Harry had owled him earlier. Not only did he receive another advanced copy of their interview, he also got some useful information. No matter what he was tied to Hermione for a year, a whole year such a long time. What should have seemed daunting didn't seem so scary. A lot could change in a year.

"Do we have to do this?" whined Hermione breaking into his thoughts.

"Yes. You don't know my mum like I do. We need to explain things to her before she reads it in the Prophet."

"But isn't it too late to disturb her?"

"No, now is the opportune time. It's right after dinner meaning she's cleaned up and ready to relax a bit before bed. She'll be tired out. A perfect excuse for us not having to stay long."

"How many of these conversations have you had with your mum exactly?"

"None particularly like this, but I've discovered over the years the best times to approach her. Plus us coming to her like this is the best option. We've already left her out of so much."

"Right of course," Hermione sighed hopelessly. It had been another long day. The effects of her earlier binge with fire whiskey were slowly dissipating. Harry had helped calm her down as well as drastically reduce the amount of letters she needed to read.

"One of the hardest things we have to do is convince our family and friends. My mum is one of the biggest hurdles. Once we have her on our side it'll be much easier."

"And it doesn't bother you at all to lie to your mum?" Hermione asked disbelievingly.

He faced her abruptly. "I have my doubts about this whole thing but if we are committed to pulling this off then I'll put 100% effort into it. And as for lying to my mum it isn't the first time, and sometimes a lie is better than the truth."

"I'm sorry," she said distractedly. "I'm still having problems reconciling myself to this ridiculousness."

"Get over it. Either you're in or you're out," he stated firmly exasperated.

"I'm in," she rushed.

"Good now get ready to convince my mum and dad that you are hopelessly in love with their favorite son."

"I didn't know I'd married Bill too. Whatever will I tell Fleur?"

"Cheeky little thing," he chuckled earning a grin from Hermione. Taking her hand he asked, "Ready?"

"No, but let's go."

* * *

_Thank you so much for reading. I hoped you enjoyed it! _


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